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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202166">a better peace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors'>closingdoors</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Emmerdale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Family Bonding, Mentions of Cancer, multiple POVs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 07:48:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>36,720</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You haven’t told your mum that you’re ill, babe.” </p><p>“She wouldn’t care,” she replies, the words breaking in two on her tongue.</p><p> </p><p>In the midst of her cancer treatment, Vanessa decides to rekindle her relationship with her mother.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charity Dingle/Vanessa Woodfield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>360</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Vanessa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I'd like to preface this fic before you begin. I hadn't planned on uploading this fic until we'd seen more of Vanessa's treatment on-screen so that I could alter it to align with canon. However I think we could all use a distraction right now, therefore it might not match exactly with how the show handles it. I only have the first few chapters of this finished, so updates on it might be slow. Please bear with me.</p><p>Secondly, I'm quite ignorant re: cancer treatment. Unfortunately many members of my family have lost battles to cancer. I have one aunt who managed to beat it, and I am incredibly proud of her, however I was on the sidelines for a lot of her treatment. I've done my best to match what little I know with what I've researched online, but it may not all be entirely accurate. If any of you are knowledgeable on the subject and feel I'm handling things wrong, please don't hesitate to contact me on <a href="https://elenaafisher.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> or DM me on <a href="https://twitter.com/pxpperpotts">twitter</a>. I don't want to hurt anyone with how I write this fic.</p><p>With that said, I hope you all enjoy the journey this fic will take you on. :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I just think some women weren’t made to be mothers. And some women weren’t made to be daughters.”</p><p>
  <b>Sharp Objects, Gillian Flynn</b>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Charity licks the pad of her thumb before she flips through to the next page of her magazine. Vanessa glances at the glossy cover, barely registering the images there. Her eyes are drawn to the wrinkle that’s formed between her brows, her face furrowed with worry even as she pretends to be engrossed with what she’s reading.</p><p> </p><p>It’s become a familiar habit, this. Charity by her side, pretending everything’s okay, while the drip in her arm tries to fight the cancer. It’s her second round of chemotherapy and it’s made her feel even worse than the first, though she’d stubbornly convinced herself she’d be able to handle it better because she’s more prepared. She still hates every second of it. </p><p> </p><p>The part she hates most of all is making Charity go through this with her. In a weird, twisted way, she’s glad her dad isn’t here to see this. She wants him by her side, but seeing worry scar itself into Charity and Tracy’s expressions is hard enough, let alone with his too. Somehow having less people care about her makes it easier.</p><p> </p><p>Though there are good days and bad days, the truth is there’s more bad than good. The days where she sleeps so long she misses dawn and catches a glimpse of twilight are the worst. She’s missing so much of her life while fighting to keep hold of it.</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa sighs and Charity looks up instantly, eyes tracking the PICC line and the fluid and then, finally, meeting Vanessa’s eyes. Although Charity by her side has become a habit, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to see her fiancée so paranoid by every little thing she does. It’s endearing and frustrating at the same time. </p><p> </p><p>“Everything okay?” </p><p> </p><p>“I was thinking about telling my mum about the cancer,” she replies.</p><p> </p><p>Charity closes her magazine, her palms smoothing the front cover. Vanessa stares at her hands and her empty ring finger and wonders how different things would be, if they’d gotten married all those months ago, before they’d realised that happiness was about to be stolen from them in so many different ways.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought you’d said you’d told her. You said you’d called.” </p><p> </p><p>“I almost did. I know I should’ve,” she adds quietly, wary of the other eyes on them. Charity’s frown deepens. “But she and I… we don’t… I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t want to make a fuss.” </p><p> </p><p>“You said that about the wedding.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa winces. “I know. I know. That was — I promise that wasn’t about you. I just didn’t want her there.” </p><p> </p><p>“She deserves to know about this, Ness,” Charity says, so calmly it makes Vanessa’s head spin.</p><p> </p><p>The conversation is far from over, but she’s unwilling to talk about it more with the big ears in the room, so they leave it. Charity doesn’t go back to her magazine. She takes Vanessa’s hand, her thumb rubbing back and forth. </p><p> </p><p>The car ride home is quiet. She wants to sleep but her entire body is already nauseous. She takes deep breaths and tries to ignore the ache, how <em> everything </em>hurts, especially the lump in her throat. She wants to cry, but she’s not really sure why.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe because, if she weren’t sick, Charity would’ve caused a scene at the hospital after she’d confessed to lying about telling her mum. Somehow Charity’s silent, understanding anger is worse. It makes all of this more real. They’re both changing and she wants to grab onto the strings of time and undo the knots, take them back to the days when it was simple, when there wasn’t a sickness getting in the way of everything.</p><p> </p><p>She sleeps for the remainder of the day. Charity sends Noah up with a bowl of soup. Noah plumps her pillows and helps her sit upright and she comes dangerously close to letting her tears out. She wants her mum to know about Noah, about the kind young man he’s turned out to be and how fiercely she loves him. She wants her to see how happy she is, even in the bad times, with Charity and their hoard of children. </p><p> </p><p>“D’you need anything else?” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m alright, Noah.” She catches his hand and squeezes. “Thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>He nods, his eyes falling to her PICC line as they often do, sadness softening his features. She pulls down the sleeves of her sleep shirt and he retreats.</p><p> </p><p>The little ones make a fuss before bedtime. She hears them protesting as Charity argues with them. She wants to go out there and help but soon enough she hears Sarah’s voice join in. They quieten down after that and before she knows it, she’s dozed off again, the half-empty bowl of soup in her lap. </p><p> </p><p>“Babe. Shift over.”</p><p> </p><p>She opens her eyes to find Charity gently coercing her to lay on her back. She’s too tired to question where the soup’s gone or what time of night it is. She simply goes with it, resting her arm across Charity’s stomach as she settles in beside her.</p><p> </p><p>“Babe, I want you to know you can talk to me about anything.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s too tired to turn her face up to look at Charity. She squeezes her waist.</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” </p><p> </p><p>Charity seems to weigh her words before speaking. Her hand rubs up and down Vanessa’s back. </p><p> </p><p>“If there’s anything, you know, about your mum… I know you two aren’t close. If she — “</p><p> </p><p>“She didn’t hurt me if that’s what you’re asking,” she interrupts, trying to keep the bite out of her voice. Because, no, her mum had never raised a hand to her. But Vanessa had spent a long time after moving out being too loud and bright to make up for years of feeling invisible. “We’re just not close. There’s nothing else to it.” </p><p> </p><p>“You haven’t told her you’re <em> ill, </em>babe.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa closes her eyes as they sting with tears. </p><p> </p><p>“She wouldn’t care,” she replies, the words breaking in two on her tongue.</p><p> </p><p>Charity murmurs something too soft for her to hear when she begins to cry. She can tell Charity wants to pull her closer but she’s too afraid to hurt her, so Vanessa turns her face into her neck, crying over her mother. It’s been years since she last did this; let herself feel the pain of being unwanted. She swore she’d never let her mum feel small again. Here she is now, dampening the collar of Charity’s t-shirt with her tears.</p><p> </p><p>It’s her t-shirt, she realises slowly, as the tears begin to subside and she isn’t choked with sobs anymore. It’s a ratty old thing she thought she’d thrown out; there are holes in one of the sleeves and a wine stain she’d never been able to get out at its hem. She thumbs the fabric and tries not to cry again.<em> This </em>is how it feels to be loved, she has to remind herself. That’s all that matters. Not the people who made her feel small. </p><p> </p><p>“Is it really that bad? You and your mum?” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa considers telling her that her mum doesn’t even know they’re engaged. She’s aware of Charity’s existence, she’d mentioned her when she’d phoned to call for pictures of her dad. There hadn’t been much of a reaction and she hadn’t been willing to beg to be cared about. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re just — she just wasn’t built to be a mother. Things got better once I moved away to uni and she didn’t have to do all the day-to-day stuff. We lost touch eventually.” </p><p> </p><p>Charity presses a kiss to her temple. Vanessa realises she should give her more truth about the situation, but she’s never really told anyone about this before. She briefly touched on it once with Carly and she’d managed to mostly avoid talking about her parents with Rhona, up until her dad had surfaced from prison. </p><p> </p><p>But it’s too hard to talk about, especially after all the things Charity has endured. How can a little negligent parenting possibly compare? So she keeps the truths tucked away and closes her eyes when a wave of nausea rushes over her. Charity holds her tighter before they go to sleep. </p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The next few days all blur into one. Driving to the hospital, Charity by her side, chemotherapy and the aching dullness of it all before they head home. She finds she’s still underwhelmed by the whole process. On telly it’s all a little more dramatic than the mundane reality of it all. </p><p> </p><p>On the fifth day of her seven-day treatment, she spends most of the day painting the inside of a bucket with her insides. She’s sure she must look horrible: she’s clammy and her hair greasy and the pyjamas she’s wearing have seen better days. Charity doesn’t show it. She brings her a cool flannel to drape over her forehead, cleans the bucket without hesitation, brings her a new book she’d seen in a shop she thought Vanessa might like. If they weren’t already engaged, Vanessa’s sure she’d propose to her on the spot.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, after a nice hot bath, she makes it downstairs. The house is uncharacteristically quiet. She drifts towards the sofa as Charity potters about in the kitchen, making dinner.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are the kids?” She asks. </p><p> </p><p>“Noah and Sarah took the little’uns to the park. They’ll be back for their tea in a bit.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa rests her arms against the back of the sofa, resting her chin on them. Charity’s chopping up vegetables. The golden sunset is making its way through the window, swathing her in warmth. </p><p> </p><p>“Look at you.”</p><p> </p><p>Charity lifts an eyebrow. “Oi. You’re hardly one to talk right now, babe.” </p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t mean it like that,” she replies, laughter making her chest warm. “You’re all… domestic.”</p><p> </p><p>“Got a problem with that?” </p><p> </p><p>“It suits you.” </p><p> </p><p>Charity falters for a second. She looks up and winks, before turning away to chuck the vegetables in the pan. </p><p> </p><p>“You reckon you could stomach some of this? Or would you prefer some soup? I could nip over the road and get you one of those sarnies from the cafe you’re obsessed with.” </p><p> </p><p>“Honestly, I don’t think I could keep any of it down right now. Don’t worry about me.” </p><p> </p><p>Charity fixes her with a blazing look. “I always worry about you.” </p><p> </p><p>“Same here,” she replies quietly. </p><p> </p><p>The front door swings open before either of them can say anything more. Noah and Sarah are laughing about something, coaxing the younger two out of their coats. They’ve barely hung them up before the boys spot her on the couch. Moses lights up a second before Johnny. They both rush over towards her, tripping over each other in their haste to get to her first. Noah catches Moses before he can hit the ground, plopping him down beside her as Johnny climbs up to her other side.</p><p> </p><p>“Mummy Charity said you were poorly. Are you all better now?” </p><p> </p><p>Her throat clogs. “Loads better, darling.” </p><p> </p><p>Moses catches her face between his palms, turning her to face him. She presses a kiss to his forehead and he ducks away with a giggle. </p><p> </p><p>“Right, you two, upstairs and wash them hands before your tea. Your mummy needs to rest, alright?” Charity says, rounding the sofa. She starts rolling the tea towel up like a whip. “Or else!”</p><p> </p><p>The boys shriek and giggle, running upstairs to wash their hands. Charity pretends to chase them, Johnny lagging behind and screaming when her hands reach out and tickle his sides. </p><p> </p><p>Sarah sits down beside her. Vanessa smiles and squeezes her wrist.</p><p> </p><p>“How are you feeling? Granny said you were having a bad day.” </p><p> </p><p>She shrugs. “It’s just a day. It’ll pass and then I’ll move on to better ones.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re almost through your second round of chemo though, so that’s gotta be something to smile about, right?” </p><p> </p><p>“Course,” she replies, throat tight. </p><p> </p><p>Charity plates up dinner for the kids. Johnny demands to sit next to Noah at the table, Sarah and Moses on the other side. Charity sets her own on a tray and sits with her on the sofa, occasionally trying to feed her bites. The food does look good, Charity’s cooking skills have improved since this whole mess started, but she pushes each offer away, trying to ignore the fear that crosses Charity’s face.</p><p> </p><p>Behind them, the kids laugh at something on Noah’s phone. Johnny’s barely focusing on eating his food, fixated on staring up at his older brother with wonder. </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa rests her cheek on Charity’s shoulder, thoughts of her mum forgotten. She’d never understand the set up they have here. She didn’t care for her own daughter, so why would she care about Johnny, about any of her grandchildren? No, that’s fear that’d been talking. They’re perfectly fine without her.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>On the final day of the second round, she’s exhausted. She can barely summon the energy to walk from the car to the hospital. She catches sight of her reflection as they pass a window. Charity looks effortlessly beautiful, even in her worry. Vanessa looks pale, drawn. Not someone worth being by her fiancée’s side. She pushes the thought and the guilt away. She’s just tired and overthinking things. </p><p> </p><p>The nurses are kind enough. Charity makes easy smalltalk with them, and Vanessa finds she hates it. That they’re so familiar with this place that Charity’s answering questions about how Moses is enjoying his first year of school. She even fishes her phone out of her pocket, showing the nurse her lock screen: a photo of Johnny and Moses posing with Noah, grinning with teeth while Noah’s laughing at something offscreen. </p><p> </p><p>“What a lovely family,” the nurse — Saanvi — comments with a smile. “They look very close.” </p><p> </p><p>“They are,” Charity replies, smiling down at her phone.  </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa falls asleep on the way home. Charity shakes her awake once they’re back at the house and ropes a hand around her waist to support her as they walk from the car. Vanessa leans against her heavily, apologies swirling in her throat. </p><p> </p><p>“You know, I’ve been thinking about your mum, babe,” Charity says as she helps steer her to their bedroom, “and it’s your decision, totally, but if you wanted her to visit then that’s alright. The more the merrier, yeah?” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa snorts. “Where would we find the room? It’s a wonder we all fit under this roof as it is.” </p><p> </p><p>“Noah can have the sofa for a bit. He wouldn’t mind.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes he would. We’d be kicking him out of his room for a woman who doesn’t give a toss about me.” </p><p> </p><p>Charity sighs, releasing her hold as Vanessa slowly lowers herself to the mattress. She takes Vanessa’s hands and slowly pulls her gloves off. </p><p> </p><p>“You want to tell her. I know you, babe, I know when you’re worried,” she adds before Vanessa can interrupt. She sets the gloves on the side. “It’s alright to be scared. How many times have you shown me that, eh?” </p><p> </p><p>“This is different.”</p><p> </p><p>“How?” </p><p> </p><p>“It just <em> is, </em>okay? You don’t know what she’s like, so leave it.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’d know what she’s like if you tell me,” Charity points out. </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa sighs, shrugging her coat off. Charity takes it from her and hangs it on the back of their door. She wants to be angry about it, about Charity looking after her the way they look after the kids, but she’s too tired and she just wants to sleep. </p><p> </p><p>“Just mind your business,” she snaps. </p><p> </p><p>Charity’s eyes widen. “Babe…” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m tired. I’m going to sleep. <em> Don’t </em>wake me up for dinner, I’m not hungry.” </p><p> </p><p>Guilt rushes through her sternum and makes her cheeks hot once the words have left her mouth. She climbs under the duvet and turns her back on Charity before she can apologise. Her cheeks are wet by the time Charity leaves the room.</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>Charity’s working the next day and she’s up early to meet the drayman. She tries to dress quietly, Vanessa knows, but she wakes as the mattress shifts its weight. She keeps her eyes closed until she hears Charity leave the house and then she rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. It needs a fresh paint. She adds it to her mental list of things she’s going to do once she gets better. Most of it is just mundane things she wishes she had the luxury of thinking were simple. It’s painful, how much sickness has complicated her life.</p><p> </p><p>Tracy arrives to take the boys to school and nursery. She can hear her bubbly voice and the boys’ laughter from her room. The shower switches on — probably Noah, since she can hear movement in Sarah’s room. The house is full of life. </p><p> </p><p>She sighs. How the hell could she, in good conscience, invite her mum into this portion of her life? Her mum hadn’t even commented on the fact she’s gay, let alone raising kids that aren’t biologically hers. That biological link she had to Vanessa had barely been good enough of a reason to pay attention to her. It’d lead to so many years of Vanessa rejecting the concept of marriage, of being a mother, to the extent of booking an appointment at the termination clinic when she’d fallen pregnant with Johnny. What kind of mum could she possibly be if her own hadn’t cared about her? </p><p> </p><p>But Charity’s right, she <em> does </em>want her to know. Mostly it’s just because she’s afraid she’s not going to make it. She wants to fix things, just in case. Charity hates that kind of talk, all of them around her do. They’re all so bloody upbeat it drives her up the wall half the time, even if they mean well. She knows her mum would be realistic about her chances. Relieved in some way, maybe.</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa pushes herself up to sit, relieved when nausea doesn’t make an appearance. Tracy’s popping some bread in the toaster as she makes her way downstairs, the boys dressed and their bags on the sofa as they sit watching TV. Noah’s downstairs too now, his hair still wet, sitting at the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Hiya,” Tracy greets her, planting a kiss on her cheek and squeezing her arm. “You hungry? I was just making Noah some brekkie before we go.” </p><p> </p><p>“You spoil him. He’s perfectly capable of using a toaster.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not spoilt,” Noah protests, growing red when she rolls her eyes. “I’m not! Tracy offered.” </p><p> </p><p>“He’s right, I did.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not even hungry really, anyway. You have it.”</p><p> </p><p>He swings his backpack over his shoulder and walks over to the counter, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl. </p><p> </p><p>“Noah, I was only teasing. Eat your breakfast. It’s an important meal.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. “You need it more than me.” </p><p> </p><p>Her throat tightens and she struggles to think of what to say in reply. </p><p> </p><p>Sarah heads down the stairs and he throws an apple to her. She catches it easily, grabbing her own bag from the chair. She gives Vanessa a hug before they leave to catch their bus. </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa slumps down at the table. Her sister’s giving her a smile too big to be real as she slides her a plate of buttered toast. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s really worried about you. Sarah mentioned you’ve been sick these last few days.” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, yeah, I am trying not to <em> die, </em>Tracy,” she snaps before she can think better of it. Her sister flinches and Vanessa glances over at the boys, relieved to see they’re still engrossed with the screen. “Sorry. I’m just…” </p><p> </p><p>“Charity was right mardy this morning too. You two had words or something?” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa munches on her toast. It doesn’t feel like she’s immediately going to chuck it back up. She tries to hide the obvious relief she feels. </p><p> </p><p>“Something like that.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s the last thing you need right now, her going off on one of her tantrums. Doesn’t she get that? Do you want me to have a word?” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not her that’s in the wrong. It’s my fault, really. I owe her an apology.” </p><p> </p><p>Tracy blinks, like the thought hadn’t occurred to her.</p><p> </p><p>“You? What could you have done?” </p><p> </p><p>“I lied, when I said I told my mum about being ill. Now Charity’s trying to get me to tell her and I <em> know </em> she’s right but I just…”</p><p> </p><p>She trails off and shrugs. Tracy sits in the chair opposite her, grabbing her hand and squeezing. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s your decision, V. But she should know. Look at where hiding it got you last time.”</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa laughs weakly. “That’s fair.” </p><p> </p><p>“Why <em> don’t </em>you want to tell her?” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, trust me, you do not have enough time before taking the boys to listen to me mope about my crappy childhood.” She winces. “Sorry, I know you had it <em> much </em>worse, I didn’t mean to seem ungrateful — “</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be daft! Listen, all that stuff I used to say, about how much better you had it… that’s not your fault and I shouldn’t have said it. It was dad I was angry with, not you.” </p><p> </p><p>She looks down at their linked hands. “I really miss him.” </p><p> </p><p>“Me too,” Tracy replies softly. She squeezes their hands again. “Right! We’d better get going before we’re late. Johnny, Moses, you gonna come say goodbye to your mummy?”</p><p> </p><p>She walks them to the door, accepting their hugs and wet cheek kisses. Tracy waves at her over her shoulder and mouths <em> call if you need me </em>before Vanessa closes the door.</p><p> </p><p>The silence in the house is depressing, so she switches the channel over to some boring daytime television, resigning herself to a boring day on the sofa. What she wouldn’t do to busy herself with work. She even gives Paddy a call, just to check everything’s alright, but he just tells her to focus on resting. Probably terrified Charity will give him the third degree if she finds out.</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa exhales sharply, feeling her brain cells slowly dying as she sits her with nothing to occupy herself with. She refuses to think about her mum. Absolutely refuses.</p><p> </p><p>Except the thoughts slip through without her permission, guilt gnawing at her sides. Her mum does deserve to know. It is only fair. Maybe they could meet for some lunch, at least. Somewhere neutral and away from home. She feels strangely ill at the thought of her mum standing in her living room, observing her home. Finding all sorts to nitpick about the people she loves.</p><p>
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</p><p>Charity gets home just before the kids are due back from school, a box of chocolates tucked under her arm. </p><p> </p><p>“I got you these, babe. Your favourite,” she says, thrusting them into Vanessa’s lap. She sits beside her. “Listen, I get it. There are things you don’t want to talk about. I’m not gonna push anymore. I’ll just be here if you need to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you were right. I’m the one who should be sorry.” </p><p> </p><p>“Seriously, you don’t have to try and make me feel better. I know I have a big gob and I don’t know when to shut it sometimes  —“</p><p> </p><p>“That’s an understatement. But that’s not what I meant. I think I’m gonna tell her about the cancer.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” Charity's eyebrows lift.</p><p> </p><p>“She should know. Maybe she won’t care, but at least I’ve done my part.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa looks down, picking at one of the stickers on the box of chocolates. They are her favourite. Her mum wouldn’t know something like that. She wouldn’t even bother to learn. </p><p> </p><p>“If she doesn’t care, then that’s on her, babe. You’re amazing,” Charity says, shuffling closer to cover her knee with her hand. </p><p> </p><p>“I thought about texting her, but that’s probably cruel. I just don’t know how I’m gonna get it out over the phone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, how far away is she? Have her visit.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa shakes her head. “I don’t want her here. You don’t know what she’s like, she’d — I just don’t want her here. In our house.”</p><p> </p><p>Charity gives her a long, searching look. She squeezes her knee and Vanessa sighs, leaning her weight against Charity’s side. </p><p> </p><p>“I just don’t want you to… to regret <em> not </em>telling her.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know.” She rests her hand atop Charity’s. “I love you.” </p><p> </p><p>“To the moon and back, babe.” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She calls her mum a few days later, once the kids are at school and Charity’s up in the shower. She paces the length of the living room first, biting on her thumbnail — a nervous habit she tells the kids off for. The number stares up at her and she scowls at it, willing herself to just rip the plaster off, to press the button. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually she succumbs and sits on the very edge of the sofa, body tense with nerves as the dial tone goes on and on for what feels like forever. She even considers confessing it all to the voicemail before the phone clicks on the other end and her mum’s voice comes floating through.</p><p> </p><p>“Vanessa. To what do I owe the pleasure?” </p><p> </p><p>She grips the sofa so tightly it’s a wonder she doesn’t split the leather.</p><p> </p><p>“I was just wondering if you’d be willing to meet for a coffee sometime this week. I have something I need to tell you," she says.</p><p> </p><p>Her mum’s voice is skeptical when she next speaks. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” She almost laughs at the ridiculous thought. “It’s nothing like that. But it — it’d mean a lot to me if you’d meet me —” </p><p> </p><p>“It would?” </p><p> </p><p>She closes her eyes. “Yes. It would.” </p><p> </p><p>“Hm. Are you still living in that village?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, mum. I have a business here.” She presses her lips together when she almost says <em> and a fiancée. </em>“There’s a café here we could have a coffee in. Or we could meet somewhere in between? I don’t mind driving —“</p><p> </p><p>“Just send me the postcode. I’m busy so you’ll have to wait until Friday. It’s rude to give such short notice, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know. I’m sorry —” </p><p> </p><p>“Well.” Her mum clears her throat. “I’ll see you then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. I’ll... “</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa pulls the phone away to find she’s already hung up the phone. Her hands are shaking with adrenaline and she’s not sure whether she wants to laugh or cry.</p><p> </p><p>She heads upstairs, sitting on the bed and waiting for Charity to finish in the shower. She looks about the room, at Charity’s clothes thrown over the back of the chair, her side of the bed still unmade, one of Johnny’s drawings folded on her bedside table. This is her life now. Her home with Charity. </p><p> </p><p>For so long, she had denied that she’d ever wanted anything like this. Marriage, kids, someone to share her life with. Mostly because she hadn’t realised she had the option of that with a woman. The thought of tying herself down with a man had been inconceivable. She’d convinced herself for so long that it’d been because her dad had left, that she’d never known what a family felt like and she’d done just fine without one.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe, she thinks, lifting Charity’s blouse from the chair and running her thumbs over the fabric, maybe it’s the only thing she’d ever really wanted.</p><p> </p><p>She’s terrified of exposing that to her mum. She has a way of cutting her down like no-one else ever has. Knocks the wind out of her sails without blinking. She knows that motherhood is hard, she really does, but sometimes it’s like her mum hadn’t even <em> tried. </em>Mostly, it’d felt like she’d resented Vanessa just for existing. After she’d graduated from uni and had earned enough to move out, she hadn’t ever really stopped to look back. Her mum seemed to prefer it like that.</p><p> </p><p>“Feeling up my clothes now, babe? Bit stalker-ish, but I guess I’ll make an exception for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa startles, dropping the blouse to the floor. Charity scoops to pick it up, her wet hair clinging to her cheekbones and little rivulets of water running over her collarbones and disappearing under her towel. </p><p> </p><p>“I spoke to my mum.”</p><p> </p><p>Charity almost drops the blouse. “Yeah? How’d that go?” </p><p> </p><p>“We’re gonna meet at the cafe on Friday. She thought I was pregnant.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, right. I think we’ve already got enough offspring, don’t you?” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa reaches out and runs her finger against Charity’s sternum, above the towel. She hopes it softens her next words.</p><p> </p><p>“She doesn’t really know anything about you and me. Or the kids.” </p><p> </p><p>She watches Charity’s throat work and sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t get any ideas about me being ashamed. I love you and I love our life together. I’m proud of us,” she says fiercely. “I just don’t want her ruining anything. She knows I’m with you but that’s it. She never asked anything else.”</p><p> </p><p>Charity drops the blouse on the end of the bed and turns away to look through their wardrobe. Vanessa worries the ring on her finger. </p><p> </p><p>“I get it, babe.” </p><p> </p><p>“Do you?” </p><p> </p><p>“Course.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa wants to press the issue, but now that the adrenaline is wearing off she feels her eyelids growing heavy. She sits on the end of the bed and watches Charity dress. </p><p> </p><p>She catches sight of her reflection in the mirror and notices how dark the circles under her eyes are. How much she’s slouching her shoulders. How depressingly <em> sick </em>she looks. All things her mum will pick on, of course. That’s all she’d done last time they’d seen each other. She wonders what her mum expects to find. A disappointment, probably. Is that what she’d see?</p><p> </p><p>Once Charity’s dressed and dried her hair, she moves to leave the room. Vanessa catches her by her sleeve. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re okay, aren’t we?” </p><p> </p><p>Charity nods, cupping her face and leaning down to kiss her softly. Vanessa circles her wrists with her own hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Always, babe.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>She can hardly sleep all Thursday night. She wakes Charity with all her worrying, trying to fall back to sleep under the reassuring weight of her palm against her stomach. By the time the blue morning sky is pulling itself up, she’s wide awake. </p><p> </p><p>They’re not due to meet until the early afternoon. She’s exhausted by the time midday rolls around but holds off on a nap; if she gets into bed now, she doesn’t trust that she’ll wake up to an alarm. So she fusses over her outfit for the thousandth time in the mirror to occupy herself, watching the time pass on the clock agonisingly slowly. </p><p> </p><p>Noah and Sarah walk in just as she’s grabbing her coat to leave. The draw up short at the sight of her.</p><p> </p><p>“Where are you going? I thought you were supposed to be resting,” Noah comments, frowning. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you two doing home? It’s not hometime yet.” </p><p> </p><p>“It’s lunch. We brought you one of those sarnies you like from the cafe,” Sarah says, holding up a paper bag. “Granny said you’ve been bored stiff sitting here on your own all day.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa blinks her tears away quickly. “That’s a really lovely idea. Thank you for thinking of me.” </p><p> </p><p>“But you’re going somewhere,” Noah accuses.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to meet my mum, actually.” </p><p> </p><p>He frowns. “Why doesn’t she come <em> here? </em>You’re sick, you shouldn’t have to run after her.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure nipping across the road won’t kill me.” She winces when Sarah’s eyes widen and Noah’s frown deepens, his adam’s apple bobbing. “Sorry. That was a bad joke.” </p><p> </p><p>“Just a bit.” </p><p> </p><p>“Listen, I really appreciate you two for thinking of me. But I really do have to meet her. We’ll do this another day, okay?” </p><p> </p><p>Sarah nods but Noah’s eyes turn down to the floor. She gives Sarah a hug and squeezes Noah’s shoulder. She wonders, if her mum witnessed moments like this, whether she would regret how little support she gave her as a child.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a chilly April day and Vanessa stuffs her hands in her pockets as she walks over to the café. Her heart jumps into her throat when she sees her mum’s car parked around the back; she’d left early to make sure she could get them coffees in and a chance to calm herself down before she’d arrive, but clearly not early enough. She rushes down the road, her breath coming shorter than she’d like. </p><p> </p><p>She almost stops breathing completely when she sees her mum sitting in the middle of the café. It hadn’t felt real, the idea of her mum finally visiting the village that’s been her home for the last eight years. Seeing her here now, her eyes critical as she watches Brenda work behind the counter, glancing at her watch every now and then, she almost regrets calling her at all. </p><p> </p><p>Brenda spots her standing still. “Hello, love. What can I get you? I’ll bring it over.” </p><p> </p><p>“A latte please, Brenda.” </p><p> </p><p>“Sit,” she urges her.</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa’s cheeks fill with heat as she takes a seat opposite her mum. She looks exactly the same as she had the last time she’d seen her: bored. It’s the expression she recognises on her most.</p><p> </p><p>She’d hoped that would change, after her dad had passed away. Her mum had always harboured such a grudge against him, after all, for leaving them. That’s why Vanessa had taken Johnny to visit her after her holiday away with Charity. She’d been desperate for Johnny to have at least one of his grandparents in his life. He’d already lost Rakesh and Frank. Carolyn had barely paid the slightest bit of attention to Johnny however, too busy lamenting about all the wrongdoing Frank had done during their marriage, her scathing remarks keeping Vanessa up at night as she tried to convince herself that her dad had been a good person. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey. Thanks for meeting me.” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re late. And engaged.” </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa gulps. She’d taken the ring off when she’d visited her last time, too consumed with grief to even think about arguing over Charity with her mum.</p><p> </p><p>“Right. Yes. I am.”</p><p> </p><p>“So that’s what you wanted to tell me?” </p><p> </p><p>“Not really, but I’m glad you know. I thought you might be happy for me.” </p><p> </p><p>Carolyn's upper lip curls. “You’re still with that woman, then?” </p><p> </p><p>“Charity. Yeah.” She pauses. “She makes me really happy. Things have been hard these last few months, but she’s been my rock. I couldn’t ask for more.” </p><p> </p><p>Brenda arrives with her coffee, setting it down on the table in front of her. Vanessa thanks her and Brenda lingers for a beat too long, clearly waiting for an introduction that neither she or her mum are willing to give her. She’s frowning when she heads back to the counter. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s a strange name. Charity.”</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa sits up straighter. “Her family are a bit funny with names. They pick them from the bible. Two of our boys — “ </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Our</em> boys?” </p><p> </p><p>She grips her mug. This is all coming out wrong. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re raising our kids together. Me and Charity. Johnny is so close with Moses, Charity’s youngest one. They’re sweet together. Look, see?” </p><p> </p><p>She flicks through the photos on her phone, holding up the one of Noah, Johnny and Moses together. Her mum barely glances at it.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s Noah. He’s sixteen. He’s… he’s a really lovely boy. All attitude sometimes but, well, that’s teenagers, eh?” </p><p> </p><p>The joke lands flat and Vanessa locks the screen of her phone, setting it aside. She hasn’t felt this nervous since she’d first confronted Charity about their kiss in the cellar. But that had been a different kind of nerves; the butterflies in her stomach had been good ones.</p><p> </p><p>“Please say something.” </p><p> </p><p>Carolyn stirs her coffee. “You look frightful.” </p><p> </p><p>“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, actually,” she says in a rush. She’s so nervous she can feel her pulse pounding in her throat. “I have some bad news.” </p><p> </p><p>“Get on with it then. I don’t have all day.”</p><p> </p><p>“I have cancer.”</p><p> </p><p>“You do,” her mum says. She blinks. </p><p> </p><p>Vanessa takes a deep breath. “It’s stage three bowel cancer. I had an operation to have the tumour removed and it went really well. I’m undergoing chemotherapy at the moment. I finished my second round last week.” </p><p> </p><p>For once, her mum seems lost for words.</p><p> </p><p>She’s not sure what kind of reaction she’d been hoping for. The blank expression staring back at her definitely isn’t it, though. She feels her eyes stinging with tears. She’s not sure anything she’ll ever do will be enough for her mum to care.</p><p> </p><p>“I just thought you should know,” she murmurs.</p><p> </p><p>“They’re positive about your recovery?”</p><p> </p><p>“They are. I don’t know how much they say that just to keep me positive, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mum nods stiffly. “Right. That’s good then.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d better be off,” Carolyn says with a glance at her watch. “I’m supposed to be somewhere in a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>“What? But. I’ve just told you I’m sick.” </p><p> </p><p>“And you’re going to be fine. There’s no point crying over spilt milk.”</p><p> </p><p>Her mum’s already standing. Vanessa stands too, her legs aching as they hold her up. </p><p> </p><p>“Mum.”</p><p> </p><p>She looks back to her. Vanessa tries to think of something meaningful, something to get her to stay. But she’s spent so much of her life looking for the right words and they’re still eluding her.</p><p> </p><p>“It was nice seeing you,” she finishes lamely. </p><p> </p><p>“Yellow isn’t your colour,” her mum replies before leaves.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Charity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>As shifts go, it isn’t the worst one she’s ever worked. It’s just that she spends all day worrying about Vanessa, wondering if she’s pushing herself too hard when she’s left on her own in the house, or what kind of dark thoughts she lets herself fall into when there’s no-one around to distract her. It’s even worse today, knowing Vanessa’s going to meet her mum without backup.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity had wanted to go with her but she hadn’t even bothered to offer. She’d known Vanessa would turn her down. They’ve been working on their communication since the battle with cancer had started, and they </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>more a unit now more than ever, but she understands that there are things Vanessa still struggles to open up about. There’s only so much she can push without Vanessa breaking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s still some insecurity niggling at her since Vanessa had said her mum barely knew anything about Charity or their life together. She knows, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>does, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Vanessa isn’t ashamed of her; there’s something bigger going on, something to do with the strange mother-daughter dynamic they have. Yet it’s easier for her to tell herself that there’s an element of shame there. No-one’s ever been proud to shackle themselves to her before. Not with her past. Sometimes she feels like she’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door to the pub bursts open and a woman storms up to the bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gin and tonic,” the woman orders before Charity can open her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything alright?” Charity finds herself asking. The woman’s close to tears and her hands are shaking as she fumbles through her purse for her money.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman laughs bitterly. “My daughter’s just told me she has cancer. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Everything is not alright. Think about that before you’re nosy next time.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s ears start ringing. Carolyn grabs her drink and disappears to one of the booths without looking back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She doesn’t know who I am, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Charity realises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity isn’t quite sure what she’d expected of Vanessa’s mother. No matter what Vanessa has said about her childhood — or how little, really — she always pictured her middle class. A little snobbish. A necklace of pearls around her neck. Beautiful, because Vanessa must have inherited her looks from somewhere, and she sure enough didn’t get them from Frank. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn Woodfield, it turns out, isn’t the woman she’s seen in her head. Her hair is mousy brown, thin and split at the ends. Her face is round like her daughter’s and her eyes the same colour. The comparisons to Vanessa stop there, because there’s none of the sunniness that Vanessa carries around. Even her clothes are drab. The charcoal grey coat she’s wearing makes her look like a shadow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity watches her drink half of her G&amp;T in one gulp. Another patron appears at the bar but Charity ignores them, heading through to the back room and fishing out her phone. She tries to call Vanessa but it goes straight to voicemail. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe, call me back when you get this,” she says, then pauses. Does she mention that she just met Carolyn? It doesn't look like their reunion went well. “I wanna know how it went. Love you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hesitates, passing her phone between her hands. Does she say anything to Carolyn? Vanessa will kill her for getting involved without her permission, but it’ll only look ten times worse if she pretends like she doesn’t know who she is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she’s back behind the bar, she serves the next customer, but keeps her eyes firmly on Carolyn. She’s finished her drink already, swirling the glass around and watching the ice rolling around at the bottom. The tears have dissipated from her eyes and have been replaced with a sort of numbness Charity’s seen on Vanessa’s face many times these last few months. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity smooths down her hair before heading from from behind the bar, stopping beside the booth Carolyn’s sitting in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I get you another?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” She swirls the glass again. “I’m driving.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity takes a deep breath. “I’m Charity, by the way. Charity Dingle. Maybe Ness has mentioned me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn startles. She looks up at Charity, narrowing her eyes. Something in her shifts. The way she holds herself a little straighter, disdain settling on her features as she does a quick sweep of the pub.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She never said you were a barmaid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Landlady. I co-own the place.” Charity smiles without teeth and sits opposite her. “Listen, I know it’s a shock. It's been tough for her — “ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re the one that’s got it into her head that she’s a lesbian, then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s head spins. “You’ve just found out she’s got cancer and that’s what you’re focusing on?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My </span>
  </em>
  <span>daughter isn’t a lesbian, and she certainly isn’t raising my grandson with the kids of a barmaid.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Landlady.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn slams the glass to the table so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter into pieces. Her eyes turn to steel and Charity sets her jaw, trying to keep her cool. Every part of her wants to lash out and defend herself, her kids, the life she’s built with Vanessa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t think to contact me, then? Tell me she was sick? What kind of fiancée are you if you’re keeping secrets from her nearest and dearest?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nearest and — “ Charity stops, inhaling sharply. “Vanessa said she’d told you. She only told me she’d lied the other day. She wouldn’t have even called you if</span>
  <em>
    <span> I </span>
  </em>
  <span>hadn’t persuaded her to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a wonderful relationship you must have, if she’s lying to you during times like this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That one stings. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a nasty piece of work, you know that? No wonder Vanessa wants nothing to do with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charity!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart drops into her stomach when she hears Vanessa voice. She stumbles from the booth and over to Vanessa. Her cheeks are blotchy with tears and her mouth is hanging wide open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe, I didn’t mean — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What a charming personality.” Carolyn stands and looks Charity up and down. “No wonder you’ve told me next to nothing about her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa clenches her jaw. “You never </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have time for this. Goodbye, Vanessa.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Bye,” Vanessa whispers hoarsely, watching Carolyn go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity tries to take her hand the moment Carolyn’s gone. Vanessa steps away from her though, shaking her head. Fresh tears have started making their way down her cheeks and Charity can hardly breathe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>the reason Vanessa’s crying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you do that to me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, it wasn’t what it looked like, alright. She came in here, I realised who she was, and I was trying to comfort her — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? By yelling at her? Telling her things that aren’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>true?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>babe, she was just making all sorts of comments. You know, about me and you and the kids, she especially hates me for thinking I turned you gay — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She does?” Vanessa interrupts, choking on a sob. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s attracting attention from the rest of the customers and Charity ropes her arm around her shoulder, trying to lead her through to the back room. Vanessa shrugs her off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t. I… I need to be on my own right now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Ness. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten involved. Just stay, yeah? I’ll get Marlon to cover my break and we can talk properly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Charity.”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity steps forward but Vanessa just swipes at her cheeks and shakes her head. She turns away and leaves the same way Carolyn did, the door closing loudly behind her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you gawping at?” Charity snaps when she catches Nicola staring at her, swiping Carolyn’s empty glass from the table and trying to calm her rioting heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>If it isn’t obvious that she’s in the doghouse before she gets home that evening, it becomes even more apparent when she finds the whole house has eaten dinner without her. Normally Vanessa will set some aside for her to reheat, but when she looks there’s no plate, no little sticky note with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>just for you xxx </span>
  </em>
  <span>and a smiley face attached. Even Tracy’s started doing it, on the days she comes over to help with the kids because Vanessa’s having a bad day. Now there’s nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah and Sarah are holed up in their rooms as she makes her way upstairs. The door to the boys’ room is wide open and she glances inside to see Johnny’s fast asleep on his bed, arms and legs splayed out like a starfish. Vanessa is sitting on Moses’s bed with him, reading him a story. Moses is pressed against her side, blinking slowly, clearly trying to fight off sleep in favour of spending time with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s throat burns as she walks away quietly. She showers and after, walks in to their room to find Vanessa’s under the covers now, her back turned to her. Charity slips in beside her, wrapping her arms around her from behind. She knows Vanessa’s still awake. Her breathing changes when Charity touches her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe, I’m really sorry. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t talk about this right now. I need my sleep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Course. Yeah.” She presses a kiss to the back of Vanessa’s neck and swallows down her tears. “I love you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa doesn’t say anything else. Charity screws her eyes shut and tries to sleep. She struggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t get a chance to talk to Vanessa before her shift the next day. Tracy doesn’t seem to realise anything’s up as they cross paths at the front door, her leaving for work and Tracy arriving to take the little ones to school. That eases her mood. At least Vanessa isn’t talking about her behind her back. That means there’s still a chance of earning forgiveness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>God, does she want it. It’s hard being on the receiving end of Vanessa’s anger on a good day, let alone when she’s in the middle of cancer treatment. Though Charity’s trying hard to remain positive, convincing herself Vanessa will make it because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to, she knows there’s no guarantee. If things don’t work out, she doesn’t want to remember this period of her life with Vanessa as something fraught with tension and anger. She just wants them to be happy, for however long or short a time they have together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She has Marlon make them lunch and on her break she walks back home to Jacob’s Fold. As she enters the house however, she hears voices. Vanessa and Rhona’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They fall quiet as Charity steps into the room. They’re sitting at the table, Rhona nursing a brew while Vanessa sticks with just water. Rhona ducks her eyes and scratches at the back of her neck. Vanessa’s jaw tenses, that muscle Charity’s so familiar with making an appearance. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rhona. Didn’t realise you were coming over today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just came to check in on Ness. See how she’s doing.” Rhona hesitates. “Maybe I should leave you two to it — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to go anywhere, Rhona. Charity’s not staying.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I’m not, am I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s eyes harden. “Don’t you have work to do? You can’t keep using me as an excuse to skive off.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An </span>
  <em>
    <span>excuse? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Babe, you’re sick! I’ll spend as much time with you as I bloody well want to.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She deposits the bag of Marlon’s food on the table. Rhona perks up while Vanessa turns a sickly shade of grey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not hungry.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have to eat, babe. You’ve hardly eaten anything in days.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa shakes her head, standing and pushing past Charity. “I need the loo.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity slumps against the table as Vanessa storms up the stairs. She rubs at her temples, trying to alleviate her headache. It doesn’t work, especially not when she can feel Rhona’s eyes on her the entire time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I take it she’s told you all about me and my big gob.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She drops her hands and looks over to Rhona, who sighs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it doesn’t sound like it was your finest moment.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s like Carolyn knew </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>which buttons to push. I didn’t mean to yell.” She narrows her eyes. “You’ve met Carolyn before, I take it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only once. I don’t think Ness meant for it to happen. She’d moved back home after uni while searching for a job, and I drove over to visit her for a weekend when her mum and Neil were supposed to be away. I got there early and bumped into Carolyn as she was leaving.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What did you think of her?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rhona mulls the question before she speaks. “I… didn’t understand how someone like her could raise a person as kind as Ness.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Charity sighs, “that’s what I thought, too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She hardly ever speaks about her mum. I only know a handful of things about her family. She always switches the topic if I bring them up..”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She does that with me an’all,” Charity admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hates this. Being so distant from Vanessa at a time like this, </span>
  <em>
    <span>especially </span>
  </em>
  <span>when it means she’s having deep chats with Rhona of all people. They’ve never had a reason to be close before. God, she just wants everything to go back to the way it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, why don’t you go back to work. I’ll make sure she eats some of this.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to talk to her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rhona smiles. “I think she needs to talk to someone else first. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna make out like you’re the baddie. Just… give her some space, yeah?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity points at the bag of food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t just mean little bites. I want her to eat the whole thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Got it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lingers for a few more moments, hoping to say goodbye before she leaves, but Vanessa doesn’t seem interested in making her way downstairs any time soon. Charity heads back to work with a heavy feeling her chest, something that’s not quite guilt. She can’t put her finger on what it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not all about her, that much she knows. It’s the whole situation: the cancer, her mum, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Charity’s outburst. Considering Charity’s the only one out of those three Vanessa can actively punish, it makes sense that she’s being given the silent treatment. Vanessa’s been much more volatile since the chemotherapy started too, prone to anger one second and tears the next. It’s been hard keeping up with her changing moods and Charity’s never been the best at dealing with emotions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tries to imagine what Vanessa’s childhood must’ve been like for her to react this way. There’s a reason she hardly talks about her mum, and she’s already starting to see why. If she was like that for all of Vanessa’s upbringing, no wonder Vanessa distanced herself from her. Vanessa said she’d never hurt her, physically at least, but Carolyn’s words have been leading her to seethe for over a day now. She can’t begin to think about what kind of spiteful words Vanessa grew up with. Charity knows a thing or two about hearing hate pour forward from the people you love.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The next morning, she wakes to find the bed beside her empty. It’s a weekend, so the little ones are still asleep and Noah’s out at footie, Sarah chatting away on the phone in her bedroom. She walks downstairs, wiping at her eyes blearily and keeping out an eye for Vanessa. She can’t have gone far. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa isn’t anywhere to be seen downstairs and she tries not to panic. She makes herself a brew and calms herself down before she calls Vanessa. The last thing she wants is for her fiancée to feel smothered again. But when she calls, she hears Vanessa’s phone ringing upstairs. Unease forms a fist in her stomach and she forgets all about her tea.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shoots Paddy a quick message, asking if Vanessa has made an appearance at work. It’s only half seven in the morning, so she wouldn’t put it past Vanessa to go in and try and get some paperwork done. She’s been itching to get out of the house after all. But Paddy says he hasn’t seen her. She gnaws at her lower lip, trying to remain calm. Maybe she’s just gone for a walk. That’s something the nurses had recommended; light activity to make her feel better. Yeah. That must be it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, she pings a message to Tracy, Paddy, and Rhona, telling them to let her know if they see Vanessa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She does laundry just to keep her mind off of it, of her worries about what had happened last time she couldn’t get in contact with Vanessa. Convinced she was off on their honeymoon in Paris, when really she was down the road, she and Johnny held hostage by a convicted sex offender. She swallows down the bile that rises in her throat and watches the clothes spin in the washing machine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last thing she expects, when she opens the back door to hang the washing up, is to find Vanessa sitting outside, nursing a mug of tea. She almost doubles over with relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, babe, you can’t do that to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just… don’t disappear without saying where you’re going, yeah?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s eyes widen. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright.” She sets the laundry basket on the floor. “I know you’re safe now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity sits down beside her. Vanessa seems pensive, watching the pink dawn pull itself up and over the village. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never stood up to my dad when he hit me, you know. I took it. Didn’t even say a bloody word. I just let him beat me and call me a whore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were a child, Charity.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Charity says quickly, before Vanessa can give her assurances and change the subject. “But when I went to see him, and we really talked, and I just got to — </span>
  <em>
    <span>god, </span>
  </em>
  <span>once it was all out, it was better. We were better. Even though I know I’ll never see him again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was different. I haven’t gone through half of what you’ve survived. My mum never hurt me, not like that anyroad.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s exactly the same, Ness,” she murmurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s brows pinch together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her fiancée doesn’t say anything else. Charity wonders if maybe she should push. She’s never been any good at this talking malarkey, that’s always been Vanessa’s forté.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not that she’s surprised Vanessa’s staying stubbornly quiet. For all her preaching and playing at therapist, Vanessa’s no good at relying on anyone. From what Charity’s been able to gather, she’s always been a pillar for other people, swooping in to save them and reaping no rewards. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sighs and swirls the liquid in her mug. “Brew’s gone cold.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stands to head back inside. She pauses and presses a kiss to the top of Charity’s head first.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity looks up in surprise when Noah walks in to the pub a few days later. She glances at the clock and sees it’s his lunchtime.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, babe, this is a nice surprise.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you and Vanessa arguing?” He demands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nicola, who she’s in the middle of pouring a glass of wine for, leans closer to the pair of them. Charity glares at her and sets her glass on the side, holding her hand out for the payment. Nicola glowers at her as she hands it over and then retreats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What makes you say that, babe?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re being dead weird with each other. I’m not stupid. Sarah’s noticed it too,” he adds. She sighs. “You are, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that simple. We’re not — she’s got a lot going on right now. You know she met with her mum the other day and it didn’t go well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah lifts his chin. “Are you two gonna break up again?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No! Why would you say that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She notices now that his eyes glitter with tears. His grip on the strap of his backpack tightens. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cos Vanessa needs us right now, Mum, you can’t go around messing everything up. She’s not well. She needs family. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>her family.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity glances around the pub, catching sight of Victoria sitting with Luke and baby Harry. There’s a dynamic she’ll never understand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You. Watch the bar for a second.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Victoria squawks. “I’m on maternity leave!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And I’m having a maternal moment,” she snaps, dragging Noah through to the back room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slumps down on the sofa. Charity sits beside him, wondering where to begin. She doesn’t want to burden him with what Vanessa’s going through right now. She and Vanessa have both worked hard to keep as much of her suffering hidden from them, to the extent that they weren’t even allowed to visit her in hospital after her operation. There are things she wishes Vanessa would let them share more with Sarah and Noah, she believes they’re old enough to handle it, but Vanessa has remained stubborn on keeping the kids as unaffected as possible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want her to go anywhere,” Noah says quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me, babe, neither do I. And I promise you I’ll do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t. Look,” she sighs, reaching out to squeeze his wrist, “the meeting with her mum didn’t exactly go well. They don’t get along. And alright, yeah, maybe I went off on one when I shouldn’t have, but you don’t have to worry about me and Ness. We’re alright.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You promise?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cross my heart.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stares at the coffee table in front of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I read online, about couples going through cancer, how a lot of the time they break up because of the stress — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought we told you not to read up about cancer on the internet. You know it’s all more negative than it is in real life.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it </span>
  <em>
    <span>said —</span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t give a toss about what it said, Noah. I love Vanessa and she loves me. We both love all of you. We’re gonna get through this, alright? So stop getting daft ideas in your head.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rubs at his face and she realises he’s finally let his tears fall. She ropes an arm around him and tugs him closer and he leans on her, sniffling against her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re are alright, aren’t you babe? I know it’s a lot to deal with. You tell me if you’re struggling, yeah?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t want her to die,” he murmurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tightens her grip. “She won’t. I won’t let that happen.” <br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity finishes her shift early that day, since Tracy can’t collect the boys from school and nursery. Johnny lights up when he sees her collecting him, holding her hand during the walk to the car and chattering all about his day and grinning up at her. She watches him with her heart pounding in her chest, wondering what she would do if she didn’t get the privilege of being his mum anymore.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa had mentioned it, of course, who would have Johnny if she doesn’t make it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want you to have him, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’d whispered under the cover of the night, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re his mum too, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Charity had held her so tightly it’s a wonder she hadn’t broken Vanessa with her grip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They haven’t been able to move forward with any official adoption just yet, since Vanessa has no idea where Kirin is to get him to agree to it, but the sentiment alone has made Charity’s heart triple in size in her chest. She’s spent so long thinking she’s a terrible mother, but here’s a woman she utterly doesn’t deserve, willing to give her a child she isn’t biologically linked to. She doesn’t think she’s ever been given a greater gift.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They collect Moses from school and he and Johnny talk about some TV show in the backseat while they head home. Once they’re back, they run straight to Vanessa, who’s stolen Charity’s crossword book and is frowning at it while sitting at the table. Charity glances at it over her shoulder and grins when she sees Vanessa hasn’t made any progress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mummy, can we go to the park?” Johnny asks, tugging on the end of her dressing gown. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa glances over at her. “What do you think?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you up to it, babe? We can always wait until Sarah and Noah are home, you know they don’t mind taking them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I feel fine, Charity,” she answers. She stands from the stool, cupping both of the boys’ heads. “How about we get Moses changed out of his school uniform first? We don’t want it getting all dirty now, do we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once they’re changed, the boys walk between them on the way to the park, Moses clinging to Vanessa’s hand. He drops it and runs after Johnny once they reach the park, trying to beat him to the roundabout. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She and Vanessa take a seat at the bench, watching them. Vanessa slips her arm through Charity’s, pressing their sides together, and she bites down on her lower lip, trying to keep herself calm. Johnny and Moses’s laughter cuts through the silence: Moses is running around pushing the roundabout, barely able to keep up while Johnny holds on and tries not to slide off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noah’s worried we’re gonna break up,” she finds herself saying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa tenses. “He said that?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I set him straight. I’m not letting you go anywhere, missus. But he was worried.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean to make him worry. Or you,” she adds, pursing her lips. “I’m sorry. My mum, she’s just… it’s a bad subject for me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, babe, I figured.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa laughs gently, nudging her with her elbow. Charity links their hands together and squeezes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boys decide they’re done with the roundabout, running over to the swings instead. Johnny opts to push Moses. Moses kicks his feet in a bid to swing higher and Johnny can hardly reach him. When Moses reaches the peak he grins at them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Look at me, Mummy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he calls, waving at Vanessa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels Vanessa take a deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t tell my mum when I got pregnant with Johnny.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity glances over at her, surprised. “You didn’t?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We hadn’t spoken in years. I didn’t even know if I was gonna keep him at first, in case Adam was his dad. I made an appointment at the clinic and everything, but I couldn’t go through with it in the end. I realised I wanted him, even if I knew the truth would tear me and Kirin apart.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you say anything to her?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa picks at some lint on the jeans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I kept coming up with excuses. That I didn’t know if I’d keep him, that it’d be too hard to explain that I didn’t know who the dad was, that he was born too early and might not make it anyway. But really it was just — I was scared of what she’d say. Especially once he was born and I didn’t love him. I just looked at him and felt empty. And I wondered if that’s how she felt with me. I was terrified I’d become her.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ness,” she says, voice caught somewhere between a sob and a sigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course I love him now. I wouldn’t trade him for the world,” Vanessa tells her, eyes misty. “But it took a long time to feel like that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Months. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m still trying to make up for all that missed time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to make up for anything, babe. You’re a fantastic mum. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>our boys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears slip from Vanessa’s eyes and Vanessa lifts a trembling hand to wipe at them. Charity takes over, thumbing them away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Vanessa sighs, curling one hand around Charity’s wrist and clinging to her. She turns her face into it and presses a kiss above her veins. “I don’t know where this is coming from.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“You have nothing</span> <span>to be sorry about, babe. I’m here for you. For everything. I might not be any good at it, yeah, but I love you.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa nods. “I know. I love you too.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks are pink from the cold and her smattering of hair hidden beneath her wool beanie. It’s the healthiest she’s looked in months. Charity leans in, relieved when Vanessa doesn’t pull away, and kisses her soundly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s more patient with Noah in the days that follow. She doesn’t have a go at him when he tracks mud in through the house without taking his shoes off, and she keeps her voice to a teasing sort of stern when she discovers half a dozen dirty cups hidden in his room. Charity watches them interact, at the way Vanessa smiles at him and clips him around the back of his head in jest when he makes a smart comment, at the light in his eyes when he watches her walk away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what they’re fighting for, what she needs Vanessa to believe she can survive and keep hold of. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The family dinner is Charity’s idea. Not the extended family — they could hardly fit all the Dingles in their front room, but the people who matter most to them. Tracy pops round and helps her move the sofa out of the way, then Chas and Paddy let themselves in through the back door, bringing a set of table and chairs since the one they have at Jacob’s Fold isn’t big enough for everyone, Rhona trailing in behind them. Ryan arrives last, passing Noah a movie he’s too young to buy. He hurriedly hides the case before Vanessa spots it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, quick nicking all the sprouts,” Tracy says as they settle down, hitting Noah on the wrist as he loads spoonful after spoonful of brussell sprouts on his plate. “V loves them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s more than enough for everyone, Tracy,” Vanessa says, smiling and shaking her head, but Noah stops taking them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sits at the head of the table. Moses and Johnny demand to sit either side of her, so Charity’s sitting between Johnny and Sarah. Vanessa looks exhausted and beautiful at the same time and she aches to be beside her, to hold her hand. She knows she’s been clingier than usual since this all started, but sometimes that small touch is the only thing keeping her steady.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moses is delighted by the setup however, and Johnny’s swinging his legs under the table, so she’s happy to sacrifice being close to Vanessa for now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chas taps her fork against her wine glass. “I wanna make a toast.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A toast!” Moses and Johnny crow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To Vanessa,” Chas says, lifting her glass. “One of the strongest people I know. She deals with Charity on a daily basis, after all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa rolls her eyes and laughs. Charity scowls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi, watch it,” she warns, but raises her glass too. “To Ness.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After they eat, and Chas serves them all dessert Marlon had made for them, the kids crash on the sofa, bellies round and crumbs clinging to the edges of Johnny and Moses’s lips. Vanessa tries to help them clear up but Tracy forces her to stay in her chair, so Charity and Chas head to the sink, washing the dishes that won’t fit in the dishwasher. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chas takes one of the bowls Charity hands to her, drying it. She glances back over her shoulder and Charity follows her gaze. Vanessa, Tracy, and Rhona are currently listening to Paddy bumbling about a client going ballistic because he’d accidentally misgendered her cat before taking it through to the treatment room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How’re you coping, love?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity looks away, dunking a bowl into the sudsy water. “We’re doing alright.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have they said anything more about how she’s doing? She looks well, considering.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lots of vague answers to that. I guess they can’t say for sure, y’know, until she’s finished her chemo. It… sometimes it really knocks her for six, Chas. She tries to hide it, but I know she struggles.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You just hang on in there, alright?” Chas reaches into the water to squeeze her hand. “It’ll all work out in the end. You know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity sniffs. “It’s got to. I can’t live without her, babe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You won’t have to,” Chas replies firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paddy and Chas are the first to leave. Noah helps them pack up the table and chairs and carry them back to the pub. Moses has fallen asleep on the sofa in Ryan’s lap and he has to carefully manoeuvre himself around him to get him, giving Vanessa a hug before he leaves too, just before Rhona leaves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tracy hangs around long after, helping them get the boys ready for bed. It used to irk her, how much Tracy would insert herself into their day-to-day life with the kids. She mistook it for trying to take over and Charity was desperate to prove herself to Vanessa, to show that she could handle this, handle it all. Now, when Vanessa’s eyelids are heavy and she’s holding on to the banister to get up the stairs, she’s grateful for Tracy’s help. Just because she could do this on her own doesn’t mean she should.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s half-asleep once Tracy leaves and Charity heads up for bed. Vanessa’s warm and soft in her arms and Charity breathes her in, the smell of fresh laundry and the coconut moisturiser she uses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa hums, leaning back into her arms. She rests her hand on Charity’s, linking them over her stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for today. I really needed it.” She turns her head, wincing a little, to kiss her. “It helped take my mind off of things.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That was the plan, babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean it. Thank you,” Vanessa says softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity presses her nose into the remnants of Vanessa’s hair, her front firmly pressed to Vanessa’s back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to thank me, Ness.” <br/><br/></span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s phone pings right as Charity’s heading out the door for her late shift. She frowns at the screen and Charity studies her as she does up her coat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong, babe?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa shakes her head and sets the phone down. “It’s fine. Have a good shift.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity snorts. “Well, that’s impossible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shift passes slowly, as all of them do nowadays. It’s a Wednesday evening so there’s hardly anyone stopping by, meaning she has little to occupy herself with. She shoots Vanessa a couple texts about how bored she is. Vanessa just responds with some laughing emojis and a picture of Noah holding Moses upside down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t suspect anything is wrong until she’s walking back home and spots their bedroom light is still on. It’s almost midnight. Vanessa shouldn’t be up this late. She’s barely able to stay awake past nine most days. Charity crosses her arms over her chest and rushes back, prone to thinking the worst lately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you doing up, babe?” She asks, closing the bedroom door behind her. On the bed there’s an open suitcase and Vanessa’s picking her things out of the wardrobe. Her throat thickens. “Babe, you’re not — I thought we were okay — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, god, Charity. I’m not leaving you. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in, I would’ve said something downstairs.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She folds her arms. “But you are going somewhere.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa takes a deep breath, crossing the room to take her hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not set in stone, but… well, my mum invited me to visit her for a bit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She did?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know it sounds crazy. But I was thinking about what you said, about your dad and how much better you felt once you got everything off your chest and — well, it’ll only be for the weekend. Noah and Sarah are old enough to look after themselves while you’re at work and Tracy’s happy to have the boys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity grits her teeth. “Oh yeah, sorted all of it without talking to me, have you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa frowns. “I’m not asking for your permission to go visit my </span>
  <em>
    <span>mum, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Charity. I didn’t think I’d have to ask.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighs, letting her arms drop to her sides. Of course Vanessa doesn’t need to ask. Charity isn’t her keeper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s just — she remembers the way Carolyn had looked her up and down. The disdain in her eyes. She trusts Vanessa, and she knows Vanessa loves her, even though half the time she doesn’t know why. But this would give Carolyn a chance to plant seeds of doubt in her mind. It’s clear that, no matter her ambivalence towards her daughter, she clearly thinks she deserves better.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity doesn’t know what she’d do, without Vanessa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You promise it’s only for a couple days?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go on Friday and be back by Sunday at the latest. She lives by the sea, so maybe it’ll do me some good. All that fresh air.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you need me to drive you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get the train.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ness —“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She holds her hand up. “Stop. I’m perfectly capable of handling a train for an hour. I’m not going to break, okay? I know you’re worried, but I — Charity, I don’t want to die without giving her the chance to make things right.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On reflex, her arms wrap around Vanessa's middle, pulling them close together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to die.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charity — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not, </span>
  </em>
  <span>babe. You’re gonna beat this.” She presses their foreheads together. “But I get it. There’s things the two of you have to say.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll miss you. I hate being away from you, even when you go to work,” Vanessa admits, her eyes shining.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity pulls back a bit to look her in the eye. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t look so surprised. You’re the one who calls me every time you’re on break to have a chat.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I’ll miss you too. So you hurry back, okay?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa smiles. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>On Friday, the boys say goodbye to Vanessa before Tracy takes them to school and nursery. Johnny clings to her neck so tightly she sees Vanessa wince, but neither of them tell him off for it. Though the boys are excited for their weekend sleepover with Tracy, and they still don’t know the extent of Vanessa’s illness, they’ve been clingy with her recently. They can tell something’s amiss.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah gives her a hug before she leaves for school. Charity watches Noah hesitate before Vanessa drags him into a hug too. She murmurs something in his ear, but Charity doesn’t catch what. Noah relaxes afterwards, grinning at them both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity drives her to the station, Vanessa’s suitcase in the backseat. Vanessa rests her hand on Charity’s thigh for the entire journey. She looks worried: constantly biting on her lower lip and her brows furrowed as she watches the world pass them outside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>you want to do this, babe?” Charity asks as they park up, helping Vanessa get the suitcase out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa shrugs. “Not really. But I don’t want to leave anything unsaid anymore. If she still doesn’t care, then that’s her lookout. I’m happy with you and our kids.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good.” She reaches out and zips up Vanessa’s coat, brushing her thumb over her chin afterwards. Vanessa’s bonier than she had been before she’d started treatment. She tries not to think about the weight loss so much. “You let me know when you get there, yeah? And if she gives you any jip, I’ll come get you myself.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re a right sweetheart sometimes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Keep that one between you and me, babe. I have a reputation to maintain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She walks her as far as the turnstiles. Vanessa gives her a soft kiss before she heads through, following the rest of the crowd to her platform. She glances over her shoulder and gives Charity a wave before she disappears. Charity stays standing there for minutes after, watching the spot she’d last seen her.<br/><br/><br/></span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Vanessa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s a gnawing sense of guilt growing in her stomach that Vanessa tries to ignore. The train is only ten minutes away from her hometown and she already misses her family. Charity. Maybe it’d been a bad decision, coming here on her own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks about how Charity had been with her own father though. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t be how I need to be with you here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Charity had said. She thinks that’s true of her and her mum. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s what Carolyn had requested, too. The message had been simple: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Come home. Alone. We need to talk. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn knows what time her train gets in but Vanessa still has to wait fifteen minutes at the station for her to arrive. She tries not to show how much she’s struggling on her face; the journey has absolutely wiped her out and she wants nothing more than to collapse into her bed. Her mum doesn’t offer to take her case for her and Vanessa’s aching all over by the time she’s in the passenger seat, watching her hometown roll past the windows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tinny of the radio fills the space between them. Vanessa fiddles with the cover of her PICC line before she hears Charity’s voice in her head telling her to leave it alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With mum now. I’ll call you tonight x, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she texts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three bubbles that indicate Charity’s typing pop up almost instantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Promise?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa smiles. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Promise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The house looks just the same as it had done the last time she’d been here. A typical, boring, three-bedroom detached house with symmetrical hedges either side separating it from its neighbours. She’s surprised to see her stepdad’s car isn’t in the driveway. Her mum always liked him there for backup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now that she thinks about it, he hadn’t been here last time either. Away on a work trip, her mum had said, and Vanessa hadn’t questioned it for a moment, too consumed with grief for her father. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Neil?” She asks as they walk in through the front door. There’s a shoe rack and Vanessa takes her boots off out of reflex, frowning when she sees that Neil’s signature pair of Timberland’s aren’t there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Away,” Carolyn replies shortly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, Carolyn carries the suitcase up the stairs for her. Vanessa feels a bit winded when she reaches the top. Her mum’s already thrown open the door to the guest room. The curtains are pulled back and sheds white light throughout the room, though it doesn’t make the beige furniture any less drab. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa reaches for the door handle of her bedroom, but her mum steps into the hallway, grabbing her wrist. The way she holds her is more tender</span>
  <span> than she ever has before</span>
  <span> and for a moment Vanessa finds herself temporarily frozen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I managed to get most of the house ready for your arrival. That one’s still dusty.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can’t imagine letting Johnny’s room get dusty. She knows it’s different. Johnny’s a toddler and she’s lived away from home for decades now, never even returned home for Christmas, especially in those years of her life when she and her mum hadn’t spoken, for no reason other than neither of them ever picked up the phone to call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still, she’d never let Johnny’s things rot away and grow forgotten. Even Charity, who likes to skive her fair share of house chores, cleaned his room and made sure it was all set up for his return after he and Vanessa had visited Carolyn last time. She feels herself getting teary now, remembering how excited Johnny had been to see Charity and his brothers, how Charity had made him his favourite dinner, how much of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>family </span>
  </em>
  <span>they’d been back before that temporary bliss had been broken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you to unpack.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa turns. “I’m going to take a nap.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was hardly a long trip,” Carolyn protests.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her stomach twists into a knot of unease. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s just… harder for me now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Everything,” Vanessa admits.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn nods sharply. She grasps the door-handle, her fingers flexing around the metal a few times. She clears her throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wake you for dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Vanessa says, but Carolyn’s already turning away and closing the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her sleep is fitful. She wakes a few times, hands closing around the empty space beside her, disorientated in a room that isn’t hers or a hospital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn doesn’t have to wake her. The hunger does. That surprises her: her appetite has been a missing figure lately. No matter how much Charity’s cooking has improved recently, everything has felt unwanted. She’s been paranoid about how long she’ll keep it down for. She’s tired of sticking her head down the toilet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa changes into her comfy clothes, wrapping her arms around her waist as she descends the stairs. The smell of homemade cooking fills her senses and Vanessa falters, choosing to sit on the bottom step and just listen for a moment. In the kitchen, her mum has the radio playing quietly, and she’s humming along to it, out of tune and always just slightly out of rhythm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa inhales sharply and rests her head against the banisters. It reminds her of the fuzzy parts of her memory, the days that were better. When her dad was still around to make Carolyn laugh. Carolyn hadn’t had much interest in her even then, but at least the house had felt full instead of empty. The days were always a little bit brighter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was coming to wake you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa startles. She hadn’t noticed her mum approach her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn looks her up and down, no doubt critiquing her choice of outfit. She’d never liked the jumpers Vanessa had worn much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to have it in bed instead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa wants to say yes, but she knows it’ll only lower her mum’s opinion of her even more, if that’s even possible. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She aches with homesickness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. Down here is fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn switches the radio off and serves dinner. She’s always been a good cook, that much Vanessa can’t deny, and she’d learned a lot from her growing up. It’s probably the only maternal thing Carolyn had ever done for her: dragged her into the kitchen and taught her how to make a good meal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then again, that had probably just been so that she could leave Vanessa on her own by the time she hit her teens. Always swanning off on holiday with Neil, leaving Vanessa to occupy herself in the empty house. By the time Vanessa was sixteen, she’d mastered the art of hosting house parties without leaving a shred of evidence behind. Having all those people around made her feel less lonely, even if they were only there because of the lure of alcohol. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa waits for her mum to make small talk as they eat but she doesn’t. The only thing that fills the silence is the clink of their cutlery against the plate. Her earlier appetite appears to have run away again and Vanessa can barely eat half her dinner before she’s pushing it away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong with my cooking?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s delicious. I’m just not hungry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn sets her cutlery down and takes a long sip of her wine. Vanessa sticks to water. Alcohol only aggravates the mouth sores chemo’s left her with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How long have you known you’re sick?” Carolyn asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I had my suspicions for a while. I didn’t think it was cancer, maybe IBS or something… I found out officially at the beginning of February.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s April.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is.” Vanessa hesitates. She wonders if she should tell her mum about Pierce. The bruises have faded from her wrists and Johnny doesn’t get night terrors anymore, but Pierce is always going to be there, lurking in the back of her mind and rendering her powerless. “The thing is — “ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know Neil left me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He what?” Vanessa asks, head spinning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Almost a year now. We’d grown apart. He’s moved to live closer to his sister in Hull. I believe he’s doing well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s mouth opens but no sound comes out. For some strange reason, her mind flashes to her Facebook notifications. Neil’s name pops up there frequently; he likes every one of her posts, whether it’s a picture of her and the kids or a joke she’s tagged Rhona in. She’d had images of him showing the photos to her mother, showing her their round smiling faces, she and Charity and the boys a tornado of chaos around them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She swallows thickly. She still has his surname. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Woodfield. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not Carolyn’s or Frank’s. And now he’s just not here anymore, not a part of her life. No-one had thought to tell her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>He hadn’t been a spectacular stepdad by any means, but he had done his best. He had filled in for Carolyn time and time again at parent’s evenings she couldn’t be bothered to attend, and remembered the names of her friends when her mum didn’t, and always slipped her an extra ten pound to</span><em><span> pay</span></em> <em><span>for a pizza or something </span></em><span>on the frequent weekends he and Carolyn went away and left her alone. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been her choice to take his surname. That had been her mum, trying to erase all memory of Frank, and at the time Vanessa had been angry enough at her dad to go along with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now she has no right to either </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clayton </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>Woodfield, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she’s sitting across the table from a woman who, most of the time, couldn’t care less about her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to take Charity’s surname when we get married,” she says firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dingle,” Carolyn scoffs. “Why doesn’t she take yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want her to take mine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t want to take yours, you mean.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She would if I asked,” Vanessa says, and knows it’s true. Charity would do anything for her; she’d take the moon from the sky and hand it to her if it’s what she wanted. “But I don’t want that. I want Johnny and I to have the same surname as the rest of our family.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious. You’re going to change his surname?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charity’s going to adopt him,” she hears herself saying, watching Carolyn’s face morph from disgust to horror, which only spurs her on, “she’s his mum too, it’d only be making what we already know official. And she’d be there for him, if I don’t make it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you’re not a lesbian,” Carolyn splutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa rests her arms on the table, one of Carolyn’s biggest pet peeves, and rests her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks about what Charity had told her, about her mum blaming her for Vanessa’s sexuality. It hurts. It hurts a whole lot, actually, which surprises her, because she’s always thought she had a careful indifference about the way her mum treated her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even after she’d finally called her mum and told her </span>
  <em>
    <span>hello </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have a son </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, his dad isn’t around </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>by the way, dad’s out of prison and he’s working on being a better man, </span>
  </em>
  <span>there hadn’t really been much of a response from her mum. A birthday card in the post for Johnny and a wad of cash in it. A birthday card for her with nothing in it. No phone calls, checking in on her grandson, asking if Vanessa needs any help as a single mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thought she’d been okay with it. With how things were. Her mum had always been like that: detached. Going through the motions of parenthood only because it’s what was expected of her. Now, Vanessa realises as tears come rushing forward quickly and her throat begins to burn, she really isn’t okay with it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Yes I am. But I was too scared to admit it. The life I have with Charity… me and her and the kids, it’s everything to me. </span><em><span>I’m</span></em><span> proud</span> <span>of what we have. I wish you would be too, but I don’t think you would be even if I were with a man.” </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mum reels back like she’s been slapped. Vanessa’s cheeks feel warm. She’s never stood up to her mum like this. Sure, she was feisty with other people, but just to make up for all the insecurity she felt the moment she stepped into her own bloody house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa stands. “I’m going to bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. That’s probably for the best.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her throat tightens when she reaches the doorway. She looks back but her mum has her back to her, drinking her wine. She thinks about how many times her mum must sit like this night after night, alone, but shakes the guilt away and heads up the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s tired enough from arguing that she thinks she could fall into sleep again quite easily, even though it’s still early evening, but she made a promise to Charity. Vanessa props herself up in bed and video calls her, waiting patiently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity picks up and Vanessa recognises the background as the interior of the pub’s back room. Of course. Charity’s on a late shift tonight, she remembers too late, but her fiancee just smiles at her through the phone. Vanessa finds herself smiling back, even as tears spill down her cheeks without her permission. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, I’m coming to get you,” Charity says, already standing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be daft. I just got here. I’m just… being silly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity frowns. “No, you’re not. What is it? What’s she said? I know she’s your mum, babe, but — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s all the things she doesn’t say. The things neither of us say to each other,” Vanessa admits quietly. Charity’s frown deepens and Vanessa sighs. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to explain the dynamic she and her mum have. “My stepdad left her a year ago.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t tell me that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s only just told me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity sits back down. Vanessa snuggles deeper into the bed and yearns for Charity beside her, arms strong and warm as they curl around her waist; the heavy duvet is a poor substitute. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just… really wish... “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, babe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s not really sure anymore. She wishes she had a mother that cared about her the right way, but she’s not quite sure she’d know what to do with that. She’d thought that coming here they’d finally have a heart-to-heart, about all the things Carolyn did wrong as Vanessa grew up, all the ways she’s going to change now that her mortality is on the line.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Parents aren’t perfect, she knows that. Her dad had been unreliable and left, and her mum had been indifferent most of the time. It’s not the worst set she could’ve received, so many more have had it far worse than her, including Charity. Yet she still wishes they could’ve been better, in some way. Not perfect. Just better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I miss you,” Vanessa says eventually, her thumb pressing against Charity’s cheek on the screen. “How’re the kids?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trace said the little’uns were very impressed with her dinosaur nuggets. Didn’t see Noah and Sarah before I left for work, but I’ve not heard any fire engines yet, so I guess that’s a good sign.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re good kids.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They have a good mum.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Two good mums,” Vanessa corrects firmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity sighs. “Babe, are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>you don’t want me to come get you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure. Thank you, though. When’d you turn into my knight in shining armour?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity laughs and Vanessa laughs with her, pressing her smile into her pillow. She loves Charity’s laugh. She hears it too little nowadays. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I reckon that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s true,” Vanessa insists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop being soppy. I’m at work. This mascara isn't waterproof.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright. I’ll stop. M’tired anyway, gonna go to bed.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Want me to stay on until you fall asleep?” Charity offers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s one of the softest gestures she’s ever received and Vanessa feels her earlier tears return. They’re good this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Won’t Chas complain that you’re skiving?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity shrugs. “I don’t care. You know I always break the rules for you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa props her phone up on a throw pillow while she gets herself settled. Her eyes are heavy and if she closed them she knows she’d fall asleep right now. She keeps them open, ingesting the sight of Charity and how beautiful she is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go on then. Tell me a bedtime story.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity does. It’s ridiculous and cheesy and downright smutty at times, but Vanessa drifts off to sleep with a smile on her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The house is quiet in the morning and Vanessa pushes open the windows, resting her elbows against the windowsill and observing the town around her. There’s a sprawling mass of houses on the hill below her, but her eyes are fixed on the horizon, where the sky meets the sea. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s not quite salty here, the air, but she knows it would be if she were closer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn’s in the kitchen when she heads downstairs, dressed already and reaching for her shoes. Carolyn watches her through the passageway, frowning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought I’d go for a walk to the beach. The fresh air will be good for me, I think.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn nods. “I’ll come with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa tries not to look surprised. She waits outside, watching the neighbours across the road mow their grass. One of looks over at her and Vanessa gives them a wave, wondering if they remember who she is. It’s been so long since she was back here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps she’s not even recognisable anymore. Her hair’s mostly gone and she covers her balding head with a knitted hat. Her skin is pallid, almost translucent, and no matter what Charity says she knows she’s horrid to look at. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it’s not just the cancer that’s changed her; </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>different now. The girl who ached for a mother to love her, who waited at the school gates to be collected every day just to remember her mother had forgotten to come get her… she’s not that girl anymore. She’s a woman now, who mended bridges with her dad, who has a fiancee that loves her fiercely and a handful of kids that mean the world to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe she does still ache for a maternal kind of love, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walk in silence. This time of year, in the cold weather, there aren’t many tourists. Vanessa has to stop a few times to collect herself and Carolyn waits patiently beside her. When they make it to the beach they meander along, passing older couples walking their dogs, or young couples with a newborn baby strapped to their chest. Vanessa feels a deep kind of yearning as she watches them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They settle against a wall eventually, watching the waves roll in. The tide is calm today. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Carolyn’s face sours when Vanessa pulls it out and her lockscreen of her and Charity in their wedding dresses lights up. Vanessa had avoided these photos for so long, they had been too full of heartbreak and betrayal, but now she enjoys looking at them and their smiling faces. It’s something to look forward to — a wedding they’ll really go through with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The text is from Charity: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good morning, babe. How you feeling?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good. By the sea now. Feeling better. Call you later x </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Look forward to it, babe x </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa breathes in deeply, her eyes fluttering closed without her permission. The smell of the sea and salt is home for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said you two aren't married yet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not. Something came up with Charity’s son, Ryan. We had to cancel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks over to Carolyn, whose face is now stuck in the expression of someone who’s just sucked on a lemon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many kids does this Charity have, exactly?” Carolyn asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five, if you count Johnny. Which we do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn hums in distaste. “And she had them young, I presume.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sits up straighter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know what it’s been like for her. She’s fought hard to survive the life she was given.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I do know. Read about her in the paper, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My fiancée isn’t fodder for your gossip,” she snaps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn laughs. It’s sharp and takes Vanessa back to all the ways she felt small as a child, the way she wanted to fold herself up to avoid Carolyn’s gaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really do think you love a woman.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s because I do.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it, a trend now? It’s trendy to be gay, so I hear. But you were always a bit of a man-eater, weren’t you? You thought you hid it well. But I know how many men you had under my roof. Never stuck around for more than the night though, did they.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa feels tears building in the back of her eyes and her throat narrows. She flattens her palms against her stomach and remembers how to breathe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a phase. It’s real, mum,” she replies quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s ridiculous is what it is. You’re in your forties. You have a son.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have three,” she protests softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn laughs again, sharp and bitter, and Vanessa wipes at the tears on her cheeks. She never thought she’d have to defend her sexuality to her mum; that’s something teens do, for god’s sake, with yelling and slamming doors. She’s too old for all of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d been hoping for some reaction, when she’d told her mum about Charity. Vanessa had told her after they’d moved in together because, well, she and Charity had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>solid </span>
  </em>
  <span>by then. She and Carolyn hardly spoke as it was, nothing more than a call every few months, going through the motions of how mothers and daughters should be. There hadn’t been a reaction. There’d been a lot of silence, a lot of talking around the subject, so she assumed her mum was okay with it. Not that her mum cared much, anyway. She cared more about what people thought of her and her idealistic picture of a family.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never wanted to be a mother,” Carolyn admits quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa watches the rolling waves. “Me neither.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But you’ve taken to it. You have your boy. You dote on him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have more than just him. If you’d just met Moses and Noah, you’d understand.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you considered that I don’t want to understand?” Carolyn asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you think about how it makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>me </span>
  </em>
  <span>look? Having a daughter in her forties who suddenly decides she’s a lesbian? Who doesn’t even invite her own mother to her wedding?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you have come?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn hesitates. It’s answer enough and Vanessa laughs bitterly, wrapping her arms around her middle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you even invite me here? You don’t care. You’ve never cared about me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I thought you could use a break.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s her mum all over: saying one thing, meaning something completely different.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn pushes off of the wall. Vanessa studies her. The shade of her hair is all wrong, obviously dyeing over the grey, and there are more lines on her face than she’s used to. Vanessa thinks she should feel something about how her mum is ageing. She thinks she’s supposed to feel anything for Carolyn at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going back to the house,” Carolyn says. Vanessa doesn’t argue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa walks along the beach some more, until she can feel herself growing exhausted from the journey. She finds herself a café to settle in, somewhere with hot tea and a toasted sandwich, though she barely touches the food. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity sends a photo through to her. It’s of Sarah and Noah, clearly bickering over what they’re going to watch on TV. The caption says: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Can’t wait for you to come home. They’re driving me mad already.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa props her phone up and takes a photo of herself sitting by the window, where the grey sky pours through and paints her skin paler than it already is. Her cheeks are blotchy from tears and her eyes are red but she does her best to smile.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Look at you. Beautiful. Wish I was there. </span>
  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Vanessa holds her phone to her chest and breathes.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere of the house is stilted when she gets back that afternoon. Vanessa doesn’t call Charity, she’s too exhausted, and falls asleep face-first in the pillow as her stomach begins to growl. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wakes on Sunday to an empty house. Her mum’s car is gone in the drive but there’s no note to say where she’s gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s calls Charity as she makes herself some breakfast.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, babe,” Charity says, and the knot in Vanessa’s chest loosens just from hearing her voice, “what’s up? You getting the train back now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa glances around the empty, still house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sort of.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sort of?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re supposed to be working but… what if you came here? Just visited for a bit and then we go home?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity goes quiet and Vanessa burns her thumb trying to fish her crumpet out of the toaster. She hisses and holds it beneath cold water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charity?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure, babe? You didn’t seem so keen on having me around before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I always want you around,” she answers truthfully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can hear Charity’s smile in her voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, babe. I’ll be there before you know it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time Charity arrives, Vanessa’s managed to force herself to finish her breakfast. Carolyn still hasn’t reappeared and she hasn’t bothered to call. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She opens the door to find Charity standing nervously on the doorstep, her eyes already taking in everything about the house Vanessa had grown up in. Vanessa reaches out and pulls her into a hug before she can think too much; Charity’s always thinking up ways they don’t match, ways she doesn’t deserve Vanessa, no matter how many times Vanessa’s assured her she doesn’t want anyone but her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her head tucks beneath Charity’s chin and Charity’s arms are firm around her. She breathes properly for the first time in days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where’s your mum?” Charity asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa shrugs and presses a kiss to Charity’s throat. She feels her swallow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not here. She hasn’t told me where she’s gone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not going well, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s an understatement,” Vanessa replies, rolling her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes Charity’s hand and shows her around the house. It feels important to her to show Charity where it is she’d grown up. All the impossibly clean furniture. A house that doesn’t feel lived-in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa tightens her grip when she pushes open the door to her bedroom. She frowns when she sees it isn’t dusty like her mum had said. It’s clean, actually, the windows wide open and letting the fresh air in. Every inch of the room looks like it’s been polished from head to toe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what to make of that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity steps into the room easily, grinning at the Madonna poster above Vanessa’s bed. She wiggles her eyebrows and Vanessa rolls her eyes, smiling without meaning to — that’s something Charity always brings out in her, no matter what’s going on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always been a nerd, I see,” Charity says, thumbing through the textbooks on Vanessa’s bookcase.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa wants to say no, she wasn’t. That she pushed herself to excel in school in the hopes her mum would pay attention to her, would be proud of her grades. That she went to extracurricular classes just so she didn’t have to go home and face the quiet. That there wasn’t much in the way of socialisation at home, so she always did her homework, just for something to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks around the room. It’s a faded peach pink. The furniture is whitewash wood. Her mum had picked them it all out for Vanessa when she was ten, maybe eleven at most. It’d never been updated. Her mum had never thought to ask. Vanessa would go to friends’ houses and see their parents redecorating their room as they entered teenagehood, allowing them to express themselves, and would wonder why her mum never did that for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She used to wonder about a lot of things. Why her mum never came in to kiss her goodnight. Why she didn’t bother asking about her day. Why she never laughed with her over dinner. But the answer — the idea that her mum had no interest in her — had always hurt too much to face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s no wonder, she thinks, that she used to bring men back here. Her mum was right: she did bring them back, more than she should’ve. Boys, when she was in school, their faces spotty and their hair greasy, who didn’t know what they were doing. Then when she was older, on the summers between uni, it’d be any man who looked at her while she was down the pub. After a couple pints she was theirs, hoping to find something to fill up the emptiness in her chest, to find a way to ignore the fact her dad had left and her mum didn’t care about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had never made her feel anything other than dirty, of course. It’s taken her too long to admit why. Why it’s never a man that could help her; why it’s the softness of a woman she craves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s only Charity’s hands she wants on her now. Charity’s mouth against hers, on her skin, between her legs. The only person who ever makes her feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>whole. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not broken, not unwanted. Sometimes Charity touches her like she reveres her and Vanessa has never known a better blessing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity looks up. She’s holding Vanessa’s jewellery box in her hand, a pair of neon earrings dangling from her fingers. She softens around the edges.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, babe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa crosses the room and kisses her hungrily. Her stomach twists with desire and Charity drops the jewellery box to the floor to catch her in her arms. She sinks her hands into Charity’s hair and doesn’t flinch when Charity knocks the hat from her head, her fingers pressing against the bald spots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Vanessa tries to push her towards the bed, Charity pulls away. Her eyes are dark and her hair askew, her breathing heavy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe,” she murmurs, a touch of reproach in her voice, mingling with the huskiness.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sets her jaw. Charity hasn’t touched her properly since the treatment started. Not that Vanessa’s even wanted more than a cuddle anyway, she’s not had the energy. Still. It’s hard not to feel like Charity’s disgusted with her: with her hair falling out, her lips chapped and dry, her skin like sandpaper. She wouldn’t blame her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you want me anymore?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity narrows her eyes. She pops the button of her jeans and takes Vanessa’s hand, pushing it past the waistband of her underwear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does it </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>like I don’t want you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s breath catches in her chest. She surges upwards to kiss Charity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have to say, Ness,” Charity murmurs between kisses, breathless, “you have to say if it’s too much. We’ll stop.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to stop,” she sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity lays her down on the bed. They don’t stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door downstairs slams sometime later. Vanessa’s half-asleep, resting against Charity’s side, Charity’s fingers tracing random patterns against her back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity tenses, trying to sit upright, but Vanessa presses her back down with a palm against her sternum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. She won’t come up here.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We should really get back. For the kids,” Charity adds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” She draws Charity closer and threads her hands through her hair, using her nails to rub against her scalp. She kisses Charity’s jaw and feels her breathing slow. “But can’t I just want to be with you for a bit? Away from everything?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity catches her wrist and presses a kiss to her palm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you want, babe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They dress eventually. Vanessa’s sore, her eyes heavy with sleep, but it was worth it. Charity hovers around her like she expects her to break. Her lipstick is smudged around the edges and Vanessa uses her thumb to wipe it away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa doesn’t make the bed. She has nothing to hide.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity helps her pack her things and carries them down the stairs for her. Carolyn must hear the two sets of footsteps on the stairs, because she rushes through to the hallway. Her eyes widen when she sees Charity. Vanessa lifts her chin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was coming here,” Carolyn says, waving a hand at Charity dismissively.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t say where you’d gone.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I went food shopping. I hardly had anything in. I thought I’d make us cheesecake for dessert. That’s still your favourite, isn’t it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Vanessa thinks she could get whiplash from her mum’s mood swings. A part of her, the little girl that’s a people pleaser, wants to say yes. It’s a small part of her but it’s still there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity must read her mind, because she links their hands together and squeezes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got to get back for the kids, haven’t we, babe?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most of them aren’t even Vanessa’s children. You shouldn’t expect her to look after them. Not in her bad health," Carolyn argues.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity raises an eyebrow. “Think you’ll find she’s got a bunch of kids. We’re a family. We chose each other. I reckon you don’t know what that’s like, do you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know anything about me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know enough,” Charity says. She turns to Vanessa. “Meet you at the car, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa nods. Charity kisses her firmly, ignoring the way Carolyn mutters, and Vanessa squeezes her hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how you can stand her. That woman is crass and rude,” Carolyn remarks once Charity’s gone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s only rude if you deserve it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn’s face twists up, but she doesn’t say anything, apparently speechless. Vanessa moves past her but stops on the step. She turns back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, I really do wish things were different between us.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn crosses her arms over her chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You chose your life.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would’ve chosen to have you in it too, if you deserved a place,” Vanessa returns softly. She clears her throat. “Look, I just wanted you to know about the cancer, that’s all. But I have people that care about me. A family. They’ll make sure I’m okay. And if I don’t make it… well, it’ll be no different to you, will it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mum, for once, looks stricken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, mum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She turns and heads down the path. Charity’s already got the engine on, waiting. Vanessa doesn’t look back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s only once they’re halfway home that she allows herself to cry. She moves to look out of the window, trying to hide her tears. Charity seems to sense them anyway. She reaches out and links their hands, resting them on her thigh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve got you, babe,” Charity murmurs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she says, and for the first time she realises she </span>
  <em>
    <span>does. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Charity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next round of chemotherapy makes Vanessa miserable and snappish, though Charity’s willing to bet a lot of that’s to do with Carolyn. Vanessa has firmly shut down that topic whenever Charity’s tried to bring it up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their life has fallen into routine. Home, hospital, and home again. Sometimes Charity has dreams about following that same route, her hands white-knuckled around the steering wheel, the needle way over the speed limit. In those dreams the seat beside her is often empty. She takes a wrong turn. Her destination changes and she goes there alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In reality, Vanessa is there, pale and tired, a shadow of the woman who had barged into the cellar three years ago to insult her. In reality, they make it to the hospital, no matter how many times Charity’s bones scream at her to run. Not from Vanessa, but from this horrible, hungry thing that’s eating away at her, threatening to swallow her whole. Charity keeps her feet firmly on the ground and makes small talk with the nurses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>her, </span>
  </em>
  <span>all this being nice and paying attention. Most problems she tackles with a scam or a scathing remark. In the hospital, things are still and quiet, Vanessa’s grip weak in her own. Charity’s not sure if she’s the same woman she used to be. Maybe Vanessa isn’t the only one doing all the changing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would carve out piece after piece of her sense of self and hand them over willingly so long as it means she gets to keep Vanessa.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One morning, she wakes as the sun is rising. It seeps through the curtains and paints everything with dark lemon. Charity stares at Vanessa’s back, at her expanse of pale skin, all its transparency now. Sometimes she wonders if one day Vanessa will fade so much she’ll be indiscernible to the naked eye. What will she do if one day she has to wake in this bed alone? What if there’s nothing but her and morning yellow to hold in her hands?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She slips downstairs and stares at all parts of her life Vanessa is firmly embedded in: the egg cups Vanessa painted with Moses and Johnny last easter, the tea towels they’d bought together last summer, the oven mitts Vanessa’s stained with bolognese sauce. She hadn’t known, before Vanessa, that these casual little trinkets were parts of a sum that equal a home. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granny?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity startles, dropping the oven mitt she hadn’t even realised she’d picked up. Sarah’s at the bottom of the stairs, Johnny holding her hand and looking up at her dolefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, what are you doing up? It’s still early yet,” Charity murmurs, taking Johnny’s hand when he reaches out for her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He came in to me. He said Vanessa wouldn’t wake up and he couldn’t find you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity scoops him up and settles him on her hip, even though he’s really getting too big to be doing that. Her heart flutters when she remembers a time she could hold him easily, without her arms getting tired, his cheek on her shoulder. He’s grown so much. Proof of how much of a life she and Vanessa are sharing between them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah rubs at her sleep-swollen eyes. Charity shifts Johnny to her other hip. Her arms are already aching. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go back to bed, babe. I’ve got this one.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny tugs at the ends of her hair. “Mummy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mummy Ness is asleep right now, baba. Why don’t we watch something on the tablet, yeah? Nice and quiet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny nods, settling down on the sofa when she places him down and accepting the tablet she sets in his hands. It’s the one she’d bought Vanessa for her birthday. It’s full of things for the kids now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You watch too, Mummy,” he demands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In a minute, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny nods and squirms until he’s comfortable, propping the tablet up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah’s still lingering at the bottom of the stairs. Charity makes sure Johnny’s engrossed in the cartoon before she moves over to her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah glances over to Johnny, pursing her lips. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vanessa’s not doing well, is she?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity wants to lie, to shield Sarah from the pain, but the truth rattles around inside her lungs and escapes with her next breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.” She looks down. “She isn’t. It’s hit her hard this time round.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What can we do? Me and Noah, I mean. We both love Ness, even if she does force us to eat brown bread and buys boring cereals.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity laughs past the lump in her throat. She squeezes Sarah’s arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing just fine, babe. Couldn’t ask for better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about Johnny?” Sarah asks quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What if this ends, y’know, badly. Will he stay with us?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well why wouldn’t he?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah flinches at her tone. “Now that Vanessa’s mum’s around, I just thought —“ </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You thought wrong, didn’t you?” She snaps. Sarah looks down at the floor and Charity sighs, rubbing at her temples. “Sorry. Look, we don’t even have to think about that, alright? She’s gonna make it. Why don’t you go back to bed?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah slopes back up the stairs, glancing over her shoulder as she does. Charity steadies herself making a brew. Johnny’s still sitting on the sofa, happily watching, completely oblivious to the storm around him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Would Carolyn want to take Johnny from her? Charity hasn’t considered that. The only relative she had thought would look after him is Tracy, but she knows she wouldn’t keep him from her. But Carolyn — she clearly doesn’t approve of Charity. Because of who she is. Because she’s a woman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn would have a right to Johnny. A blood link that, to the courts, often means more than nurture. What judge in their right mind would rule in Charity’s favour, with her criminal record, with her history of abandoning children at birth?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s heartbreaking enough to imagine a life without Vanessa in it. But the absence of Johnny. That would be like ripping her heart out of her chest. Especially if she knew that he was going to a silent, loveless home. She doesn’t want him to grow up without knowing he is loved. Completely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mummy. You watch too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She snaps herself out of it, sitting beside him on the sofa and gathering him into her side. His hair is soft as she runs her hands through it. There’s no stopping the panic that’s making her heart race. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m here, Johnnybobs. You’re with me,” she murmurs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hate this,” Vanessa mumbles into her pillow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sheets are soaked with sweat. Her forehead is clammy. Charity crouches down beside her and palms her forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bath’s done, babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She runs her thumb across her cheek. Vanessa turns her face into the pillow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I can move.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sure you can. I’ll help you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I really hate this,” Vanessa says tearfully. “I should be able to </span>
  <em>
    <span>move </span>
  </em>
  <span>by myself.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be your legs for a bit,” Charity says gently. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She helps ease Vanessa in the bath. There’s a bucket on standby just in case she can’t make it to the loo in time — considering Vanessa’s spent most of the day vomiting, Charity would be surprised if there’s anything left in her to bring up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sinks into the hot water until her bubbles are around her chin. Charity sits beside the bath, her arms on the side and her chin resting on them. Downstairs she can hear Johnny and Moses roaring with laughter, followed by Noah and Sarah’s voices. God knows what kind of mischief they’re getting into. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Can I keep him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>She wants to ask. Johnny’s delighted shrieks grow louder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did you mean it when you said he’s mine? Was that just the panic talking?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re staring,” Vanessa says, eyes closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Crime to stare at my future wife, is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa hums. “Future wife. I like the sound of that.” She opens her eyes and when they meet Charity’s, they’re wide and sad. “I hope we get there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey. What have I said about talking like that? We’ll get there, kid.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa lifts one arm and Charity knots their hands together. She presses a kiss to one of Vanessa’s wet knuckles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Already got the bloody dresses, haven’t we? Can’t let them go to waste.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You looked beautiful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So did you.” Charity runs her thumb across the back of her hand. “And you will do again. Then we’ll be a proper family, you’ll see.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sniffs and a few tears leak from her eyes. Charity is relieved to see that, for once, they’re happy tears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We already are,” Vanessa says with a faint smile, “you know that, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s so relieved she thinks she could cry too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The package arrives early in the day. Tracy intercepts the postman on the path, setting it on the side as Charity’s bundling Johnny and Moses into their coats. Moses has been playing up this morning, demanding to stay home with Vanessa because she’s ill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How you feeling, V?” Tracy asks, dropping a kiss to her forehead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s curled up on the sofa, looking small and tired. It’s her second to last day of this round of chemo. Charity can only hope the next break between rounds will give her time to rest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting through it,” Vanessa replies faintly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mummy’s sick today,” Johnny announces. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity watches Vanessa wince. She crouches and thumbs Moses’s still blotchy cheeks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You gonna say goodbye before you go with Aunty Tracy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny happily toddles over to Vanessa, crawling up onto the sofa so he can place a kiss on her cheek. She extends her other arm out to Moses. He stays where he is, pouting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity nudges his side. He drags his feet as he walks over to Vanessa. She wraps him up in a tight hug, smacking kisses against his cheeks until he dissolves into laughter. Johnny clings to her other side, grinning at his brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“C’mon then, you little monsters,” Tracy says, holding out her hands and wiggling her fingers, “whoever gets to the car first gets some chocolate!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johnny practically falls from the sofa. Moses hurries after him. Vanessa’s smile fades as they rush out of the door, Tracy waving over her shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though she knows Vanessa will most likely push it away, Charity begins making her some breakfast, flicking through the post as she does. Most of it are bills she wrinkles her nose at. There’s a package among it all addressed to Vanessa. She weighs it in her hands. It’s not heavy. Handwritten on the front, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Been on eBay again, babe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For you,” Charity replies, passing her the parcel before she moves back to the toaster. “What’d you get?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t order anything…  it’s from my mum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The toast pings up. Charity stares at it for a beat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She joins Vanessa on the sofa. Her fiancée is already pulling the parcel open, hands trembling as she lifts out the contents. Charity’s not sure what she expects. She watches with bated breath. Maybe Carolyn </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> filing for custody of Johnny.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What Vanessa pulls out, however, is a stack of photos. No more than two dozen. The first one stares up at them. A younger Carolyn, sitting in a hospital bed, holding a baby swaddled in pink. Younger Frank, devilish and handsome, stands beside her, grinning proudly. Carolyn’s smile is not so bright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa begins flicking through the photos rapidly. Charity gets glimpses of Vanessa through her childhood. Gap-toothed and grinning beside a sandcastle. Hair tied back in plaits. The misfortune of braces in her teen years. There's huge jumps in age between each picture. Carolyn did not take photos of her daughter often. Charity doesn’t recognise half of the people in these photos and she thinks about how strange it is, that Vanessa lived so much of her life before their paths crossed, and how it'll always be something she's separate from. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This was my godmother,” Vanessa tells her quietly, pointing to a kind-faced woman with wispy grey hair, “she passed away right after I moved here. Left me a bunch of money, enough that I could buy into the practice. She didn’t have any kids of her own and I was always looking for someone to be a parent to me. We were close.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never said.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa shakes her head. Her eyes are filling with tears that she hastens to wipe away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t even know my mum had any of these. She didn’t say after her funeral. I… the only photo she ever had up of me at home is from my graduation. Which she didn’t even attend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Ness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa rummages through the envelope. “There’s no letter. I don’t understand. Why would she send me these? Why </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, babe,” Charity murmurs, rubbing her back. Her spine is taut with tension. “Maybe she thought it’d be nice for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Messing with me, more like,” Vanessa mutters, tossing the photos aside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Time to go, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity swallows the argument down before it can worm its way into her mouth. There’s no budging Vanessa when she’s like this. The last thing Charity wants is a fight while they’re on their way to her chemo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa is silent on the way and during the treatment. But that isn’t new. It’s Charity now who does pleasantries for the both of them. Who’s loud in the ways Vanessa’s quiet. Who smiles to smother a frown. The time passes slowly. There are only so many magazines she can read; so many crosswords she can complete before all the clues merge into one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa goes straight to bed when they get indoors. She gathers the photos that had been sent and stuffs them in the bin before she does. Charity waits until she hears their room door shut upstairs before she rifles through the bin, collecting them all. Something clusters in her chest as she stares down at a photo of Vanessa, probably only five or six at most. Her smile is small and polite. Her dress neat. Even her socks are pulled up to the same height.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whoever that little girl was, however different she had been to Charity, something had lead her here. Charity’s no stranger to turning her back on the past, and she knows that old photos can hurt more than they heal, but she tucks the photos in a drawer anyway for safekeeping. She’s still thinking about the empty, distant look in young Vanessa’s eyes when she goes to sleep that night, her body pressed against Vanessa’s, her gentle snores in her ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity becomes aware, slowly, of something tickling against her cheek. She swats at the offending feeling and catches Vanessa’s hand. It’s enough to make her open her eyes, though the room is pitch black; she can’t make out Vanessa’s form in the dark. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Ignore me, go back to sleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s something,” she insists. "I'm awake now. Might as well tell me." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she goes to reach for the lamp, Vanessa stops her. She tugs on Charity’s arm until Charity’s flat on her back and she can curl around her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soon enough, Charity’s neck is damp with Vanessa’s tears. She keeps her breathing calm and curls one hand at the nape of Vanessa’s neck, the other rubbing up and down her back. If there were words that could fix this, she would gladly give them to Vanessa. She would give her everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I tell you something?” Vanessa whispers, voice thick with tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anything, babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never lived on my own. Not properly, anyway.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” Charity replies, unsure if she should be sad about that or not. So much of her life has involved securing a roof over her head and money in the bank. She’s never stopped to consider a place of her own before. Someplace just hers. Even now, Jacob’s Fold is filled with memories of Debbie. It’s teeming with the life she and Vanessa have built here. It’s a treasure trove of family. “Never really had a place to call my own before.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa smudges a kiss to her jaw. Charity’s throat aches. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you would’ve liked your own space,” Charity murmurs eventually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I was scared of being alone,” Vanessa confesses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of Vanessa’s thighs hooks over hers. They can’t get any closer and yet Charity’s fingers dig into Vanessa’s back. Sometimes she thinks she’s building her home inside Vanessa instead of with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It should scare her. This much dependency on another person. And it does: knowing that it’s so delicate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it means she gets these truths Vanessa trusts no-one else with, the same way she’s passed over her own truths. They can expose the hurt like this to each other and know that that will make it ache less. Sharing the hurt helps ease it, something she hadn't experienced until Vanessa had come storming into her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“D’you wish you could? Y’know, live on your own?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sighs. “No. I just want to be where you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity finds one of her hands and lines their fingers up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, I promise you’ll never be on your own again, babe. We’ve got, like, a thousand kids. It’s impossible to find a minute’s bloody peace in this house.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa laughs. The sound travels across her shoulder. She links their hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve found some. Right here,” Vanessa says, placing their joined hands over Charity’s heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Resting comes easily after that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though she thinks she should, for appearance’s sake at least, she doesn’t scold Noah and Sarah when she catches them hanging around the back of the pub when they should be at school. They’ll probably only mumble some rubbish about a free period or their lunch break. It’s a wonder any teaching gets done at that school at all, what with all the time off they seem to give their students.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Besides, Vanessa soon comes walking around the corner, lighting up when she spots the pair of them. Spring is in full bloom and the world around them is colourful. For a moment Vanessa doesn’t look so ill. Not when she presses a kiss to Charity’s cheek before dropping down to sit at one of the benches with Noah and Sarah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re paying, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she teases. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The way they interact with each other is easy. Charity ducks in and out, finding new excuses to check in on them and ignore the bar, just to watch. A few other villagers stop when they see Vanessa, asking how she is, and instinctively Charity’s hackles rise. Vanessa replies easily, dodging any questions that pry too nosily into her treatment. Charity retreats.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next time she pokes her head out, Noah and Sarah are laughing at something on their phones. Chas has joined them. Vanessa’s holding Eve, grinning as she bounces the baby on her knee. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To anyone else, and even to Charity herself sometimes, Vanessa makes building a family look easy. It’s always been too much work for her; that part of herself had closed off when she’d been forced to hold Debbie over when she was only thirteen. Family had been a curse. Vanessa and all her sunny disposition had changed things, had helped that block of ice thaw. It’s only now that she realises perhaps Vanessa’s found it hard to build a family, too. It was just her and Johnny for so long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s eyes meet hers. They wrinkle at the edge as she smiles. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click. Click. Click.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity, up to her elbows in cleaning products, steadfastly ignores the repetitive noise. She scrubs harder at the sink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click. Click. Click.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe she should do the bathroom upstairs instead. Less noise up there, unless Noah’s on one of his video games, talking loudly to his friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Click. Click. Click.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, babe, sometimes I can’t believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m </span>
  </em>
  <span>the one who’s the granny out of the two of us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa, curled up on the sofa with knitting needles in hand, looks over to her with a frown. She’s using a burgundy-coloured yarn today. Charity realises she’s knitting herself another beanie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa had considered getting a wig, back when her hair had first started thinning. Charity had laid beside her in bed as they glossed through websites and read about how to care for them. The clumps of hair sitting on Vanessa’s pillow each morning were impatient for a decision. They’d never ordered a wig in the end, especially not after Charity had found Vanessa crying over the loss of hair one evening, the shed strands gathered in her palms. It wouldn't replace the dignity Vanessa had felt she'd lost.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now they have a drawer full of hats Vanessa’s knitted in their bedroom. Different colours, most of them yellow, to match whatever clothing she chooses to wear that day. It’s not a thing she’d expected to result from the cancer. It’s oddly endearing, however annoying the sounds of the needles may be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s that s’posed to mean?” Vanessa asks, wrinkling her nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity gestures to her. “You and your bloody old woman hobbies.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you had Rishi show you how to knit, so don’t act innocent here,” Vanessa says with a grin, wielding the needles like a weapon. “Besides, it’s only when I start crocheting that I’ll really become an old woman.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s hardly like you’re a spring chicken as it is, babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oi! You’re older than me, you cheeky mare!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity winks. Vanessa rolls her eyes and goes back to her knitting, reviving that rhythmic </span>
  <em>
    <span>click click click </span>
  </em>
  <span>Charity’s still learning to drown out. She goes back to making sure the kitchen counters are spotless. It’s impossible for her to rest nowadays without double checking everything is clean. She’d never forgive herself if Vanessa picked up a bug just because slacked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come here,” Vanessa says after a few minutes of silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve gotta do upstairs, babe.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa shakes her head and pats the spot next to her on the sofa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sit.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity wavers. Vanessa tilts her head, waiting expectantly. She sighs, scooting under the duvet Vanessa has draped over her lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa pushes Charity so she’s sitting near the edge of the sofa. She frowns at her fiancée, confused about what she’s doing, until Vanessa slips one leg around Charity’s back and other side, shuffling until she’s behind her. One of her arms curls around Charity’s stomach, urging her backwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charity.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity grumbles, settling back against Vanessa. Her fiancée props her chin on her shoulder and reaches for the knitting she had set aside. She places it in Charity’s hands before covering Charity’s hands with her own. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s easy. Like this,” Vanessa murmurs against her ear.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity lets Vanessa control her movements. Together they push the needle through the stitch. One of Vanessa’s fingers curls around Charity’s, showing her how to wrap the yarn around the needles, tugging down until it pokes through the stitch. They push the needle through it and then guide the stitch onto the other one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s no hesitancy to her movements, despite the fact she isn’t touching the needles or yarn directly. It doesn’t surprise her that Vanessa can do this easily. She has a lot of experience with how good Vanessa is with her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’re you smiling at?” Vanessa asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, babe. Carry on,” she says, clearing her throat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa temple rests against her cheekbone as she guides her through the next few stitches. The needles hurt the tips of her fingers sometimes but she doesn’t breathe a word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last time she’d tried knitting, when she’d gotten Rishi to show her while Vanessa had been teaching him, she hadn’t been willing to admit how desperate she was for Vanessa’s attention. It’s different now. With the warmth of Vanessa’s hands covering hers. Her body swaying with the rise and fall of Vanessa’s breathing. The sound of their kids’ footsteps upstairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity still doesn’t think she cares much for knitting. But she cares about Vanessa. She closes her eyes, wanting to remember everything about this moment. More and more lately, she’s been desperate to remember everything she can, just in case. The universe and its cruel games can threaten to take Vanessa, but it can’t take her memories of their life together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pearl was the one who showed me how to knit. I learned while Johnny was in the hospital. He was in there for so long. It was a way to pass the time when I visited him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The movements slow. Vanessa’s hands falter. Charity’s eyes flutter back open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did it help?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, it passed the time,” Vanessa says. There’s a tinge of sadness to her voice. “How awful is that? That I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored, </span>
  </em>
  <span>sitting at his bedside? He was fighting for his life and I didn’t even want to be there half the time. I used to go home and drink with Carly, then lie about where I was to the others.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity chucks the knitting aside. She tries to turn in Vanessa’s arms but Vanessa holds her still.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure I ever deserved to be a mother.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me neither,” Charity replies quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how he’d ever forgive me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity moves her hands, so it’s hers covering Vanessa’s. They’re shaking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing to forgive, Ness.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s arms wrap around Charity’s stomach, tugging so that Charity’s back is completely flush to her front. Her legs curl up so that her knees are digging into Charity’s sides. She feels overwhelmed with all this nearness, but her chest is aching, because she can’t see Vanessa’s face, where she’s sure tears are making her cheeks wet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Promise me you’ll tell him how much I loved him. That it was a privilege being his mum. Him and Moses and Noah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity reaches one hand back, her fingers digging into the wool of Vanessa’s beanie. This one’s red. Moses had told her he likes this one best. He says it’s his favourite colour. She’s been wearing it more lately.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be around to tell them yourself,” she gets out thickly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please, Charity. Promise me,” Vanessa whispers into her skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I promise.” Charity lets out a shaky breath and closes her eyes. “I promise.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first week of May brings relentless sunshine with it. It seems to brighten Vanessa, but that may be the rest between rounds of chemo. She’s still tired, though she pushes her limits more often than Charity likes — she even catches Vanessa doing some accounting for work one afternoon — and her energy is burned up quicker than it had been before she’d gotten sick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But there’s a spring of optimism in her that hadn’t been there before. Charity’s not sure how much of it’s for show; how much of it’s just Vanessa desperately grabbing at her life in case it’s taken from her. She’s hardly going to look the gift horse in the mouth, though. Not when it means like Vanessa’s flushed with happiness after going for lunch with Rhona. Or that she bundles them all out of the house one morning, a picnic packed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity watches Vanessa laugh under the blue sky. Noah’s brought a football with him and is using the boys’ jackets as goal posts. He’s trying to show them how to score a goal. Moses falls flat on his face when he tries to kick it. Johnny just picks the ball up and throws it at one of the jackets, bewildered when Noah complains. Sarah rolls her eyes at all of them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She thinks there are words she should give Vanessa, to make moments like this count. She would give Vanessa anything she wants. But she’s come to realise lately how <em>this</em> is what Vanessa wants, no matter how much Charity still, sometimes, can’t believe it, how there are moments she still doesn’t feel worthy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So she leans back across the blanket, holding a strawberry out to Vanessa, delighted when Vanessa takes a bite and the juice runs down her wrist. Her eyes lock on to Charity’s. Everything stops moving and then it begins again, with the sounds of their family playing under the sun.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah gives Johnny a piggyback during the walk home, Moses’s hand in Vanessa’s, whose eyes are drooping. Sarah’s chatting to Charity about something, but she’s only half-listening, because she can see a figure standing at the door to Jacob’s Fold. The brown hair fools her into thinking it’s Debbie for a second. Then the figure turns and Vanessa stops short. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You two take the boys to the pub,” Charity says to Sarah and Noah, who frown, “tell Chas I said you lot need feeding.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Sarah asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s that?” Noah asks in tandem, glancing between the figure and Vanessa. “Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do what your mum says, Noah. Please,” Vanessa requests quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah takes Moses’s hand and leads him towards the pub. Noah hesitates, Johnny still strapped to his back and watching them all sleepily. Vanessa doesn’t look at him though, doesn’t tear her gaze away, and after he looks to Charity, and she nods, he finally backs away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, babe?” Charity asks softly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa takes her hand. “Don’t let go.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Never,” she replies, squeezing it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn’s expression is impassive as they approach. Her eyes follow the kids as they back off to the pub. Charity feels herself tense. She doesn’t like those indifferent eyes settling on Vanessa and she likes them even less watching their children. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa clings to her hand tightly and Charity focuses. Carolyn looks even more drab than she had the first time Charity had met her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” Vanessa asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s quite a warm welcome. I suppose you’ve been taking lessons in manners from your fiancée,” Carolyn drawls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Better than taking them from you,” Charity retorts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember asking for your opinion on my family.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vanessa is my family. You have a problem with her, then you have a problem with me.” Charity sets her jaw. “Trust me. You don’t want to have a problem with me.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn laughs sharply. “What do I have to be afraid of?” When Charity doesn’t reply, she looks to Vanessa. Charity glances at her too. There’s a faraway look in her eye. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t I going to — “ Vanessa laughs. It’s as sharp as Carolyn’s. Her jaw is working, that little muscle Charity’s so familiar with, the one that comes from anger and an attempt not to cry. “You show up here, without warning, insult Charity, and then expect me to invite you into my home? No, mother. I have nothing more to say to you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I could just speak to you alone — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You had your chance to speak to me alone. You didn’t say anything worth listening to. I mean, what are you even doing here? You don’t care about me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That isn’t true,” Carolyn replies quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, it is! It’s been true my entire life. I’m done asking your permission to be me. So go. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn raises her chin. Charity squares her shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sodding well are,” Charity tells her in a growl, “and it’s either willingly or with my boot up your backside. Got it?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn studies Charity. There’s something in her eyes that makes it feel like she’s seeing right through her, rooting around until she finds that bad, spoiled things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a look Charity is very much familiar with. She’s used to people looking down on her. She’s outgrown the way people gossip about her, the harsh words they use. She certainly isn’t going to back down to it now, not when Carolyn made the woman she loves feel two inches tall the majority of her life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn gives in first. She sighs, her hand tightening on the strap of her bag, before she walks down the path. She shoulders past Charity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be far,” she tells Vanessa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t need you near me,” Vanessa retorts hotly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn shrugs. “I’m here regardless.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You heard the lady. She doesn’t need you,” Charity cuts in, staring Carolyn down again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn huffs. She spins and walks away, her heels clicking loudly against the ground. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity looks back to Vanessa. She’s watching Carolyn go with hard eyes. Charity can feel nothing but pride when she notices Vanessa’s hand isn’t shaking in her own anymore. There are no tears in her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s stronger than anyone gives her credit for, Charity included. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa clears her throat, finally tearing her eyes away from Carolyn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright. I swear,” she adds when Charity gives her a dubious look. “I just don’t understand why she’s here. Or what she wants. You know, these last few months are the most I’ve ever seen her since I moved out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity glances down to their joined hands. A flash of fear runs through her, sudden and sharp. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t… you don’t reckon she’s after Johnny, do you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, y’know, she’d have more right to him than me. If anything happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa tugs on their hands until Charity drifts towards her. Breathing comes easier when she feels Vanessa’s hip nudge against hers. She raises her eyes and meets Vanessa’s, wide and open and blue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, she doesn’t. No-one has a right to him like you do. You’re his mum.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she whispers. The words curl between them and Vanessa’s edges soften. “And look, babe, I’m sorry if you thought I crossed a line, going off on her like that —“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa cuts her off with a short, sweet kiss, her hand fisting in the lapel of Charity’s blazer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You keep crossing lines, Charity Dingle,” she murmurs. “I quite like it when you fight my corner.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good job I always will then, eh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa smiles up at her. The orange sunset curves on her lips. Charity cups her cheeks and marvels that she gets this close to holding the sun. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Noah</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mystery of the brunette woman sticks with him for days. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s got to be Vanessa’s mum,” Sarah had said as they’d sat in the pub, the little ones munching on a pack of crisps between them, “right?” </p><p> </p><p>He’s not so sure. When they’d gotten back, his mum and Vanessa hadn’t explained what had happened, skulking off to bathe Johnny and Moses before bed. His questions have gone unanswered since. </p><p> </p><p>It’s hard to think that that woman is Vanessa’s mum. Vanessa’s so sunny. Or she had been before chemo, anyway. The woman on their doorstep had been a streak of grey. </p><p> </p><p>He wonders about it more often than not. It’s hardly like new family members springing forward is an unusual thing for him. It’s pretty much a regular part of being a Dingle. Most of the time he loses how he’s related to people in the first place. </p><p> </p><p>But it’s different with Vanessa. He’s always thought of her as different to the rest of them. Stable. </p><p> </p><p>He’s thinking about the woman as he’s on his way back from the park with Johnny. It’s Moses’s weekend with Ross and Johnny has been bored stiff without his usual playmate around. Though he’s quieter than his counterpart, more well-behaved, he had figured there was only so much of his running around Vanessa could deal with while she’s trying to rest. </p><p> </p><p>Besides, he quite likes having Johnny around. It’s nice to behave like a kid again. </p><p> </p><p>“Can we go see the puppies, Noah?” Johnny asks, hanging onto his hand. </p><p> </p><p>“I dunno if they have any, mate,” he says, glancing down the road to the vets, “did your mum say they do?”</p><p> </p><p>“There was puppies last time,” Johnny says resolutely, nodding. </p><p> </p><p>As they head towards the vets, the door opens and the woman from the doorstep walks out. Rhona stands in the doorway watching her go, typing furiously on her phone. </p><p> </p><p>Johnny tugs on his hand and Noah slowly becomes aware that he’s stopped moving. And worse: the woman has spotted Johnny. Rhona’s already stepped back inside the vets and Noah gulps. </p><p> </p><p>“Noah. The puppies.”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually, Johnny, I think — “</p><p> </p><p>“The <em> puppies </em>,” he insists, his little feet slipping against the ground as he tries to pull Noah in the direction of the practice. </p><p> </p><p>“Let’s head home, mate.”</p><p> </p><p>“Noah, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>His head snaps up to see the woman standing in front of them. </p><p> </p><p>She’s dressed smartly. While Vanessa wears bright colours hers are muted. The smile is all wrong, too. The only similarities he sees are the same blue eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Who are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes narrow. “I’m Carolyn. Vanessa hasn’t mentioned me?”</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa hasn’t mentioned much of her mum, ever, but he doesn’t say that out loud. He knows that when she came back from visiting her mum a few weeks ago, her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were red for days. His mum had been unnervingly kind in the days that followed, making up for the days Vanessa spent in bed crying. From chemo or whatever her mum had said. He’s not sure which one.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think I should be talking to you.”</p><p> </p><p>Carolyn smiles wider. He thinks it’s supposed to be reassuring, but she looks sort of crazed.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course you should. We’re family, aren’t we?”</p><p> </p><p>“Are we?” </p><p> </p><p>“You’re tactful. Like your mother.”</p><p> </p><p>He draws up to his full height. “Yeah? What’s the s’posed to mean?” </p><p> </p><p>“What do you think?” She counters, then looks down at Johnny. She crouches down to his height. “This must be Johnny. Hello.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny steps to hide behind Noah’s legs, peering up at him with those wide blue eyes so like Vanessa’s. His hand reaches up and tugs on the back of Noah’s jacket. Noah reaches down and rests a hand on his shoulder, keeping him shielded from Carolyn’s view.</p><p> </p><p>That gets him — that Carolyn doesn’t know Johnny. He’s four. If Vanessa had wanted her mum in Johnny’s life, she would’ve been in it by now. </p><p> </p><p>“Leave him alone.”</p><p> </p><p>Carolyn looks up, surprise colouring her features. “I’m not going to hurt him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Noah. Up,” Johnny requests, holding his arms out.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what, let’s go home, mate. Mum’ll have made your tea by now.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny nods. “Mummy Charity was gonna make nuggets.” </p><p> </p><p>Carolyn bristles. “Mummy <em> Charity </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Got a problem with that?” </p><p> </p><p>His hands fist by his sides automatically. This is something he’s gotten used to defending. He’s never mentioned it to his mum, and he’d sworn Sarah to secrecy too, but when the kids in his year had found out his mum was engaged to a woman there had been a few comments thrown at him. <em> Won’t ever get a dad will you, Noah? </em> and <em> she’s too hot to be a lezzer </em> and <em> is there anyone your mum won’t sleep with? </em></p><p> </p><p>He’s been in a fair few scraps in the hallways and round the bike sheds at school. Nothing that leaves a mark, the teachers are always lurking nearby. It doesn’t matter anyway, because none of his friends are bothered, and one girl from the year below had approached him to talk about how she had two mums, too.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure whether that’s Vanessa is to him. A second mum. He’s too old for all of that. But she sticks around and when she isn’t sick, she helps him with his homework and forces him to eat his vegetables and picks him up from school when snow means the bus isn’t running. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not really sure what a stable set of parents feels like. But he thinks his mum and Vanessa get close, most of the time.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I suppose you’ve got the better end of the deal, haven’t you? You get to be raised by Vanessa instead of dragged up by Charity.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know anything about my mum. Or the rest of us.” </p><p> </p><p>“I know enough.” </p><p> </p><p>Johnny’s still tugging on the back of his jacket, whining. Noah bends down to scoop him up, settling him on his hip. Johnny doesn’t seem the slightest bit interested in Carolyn. </p><p> </p><p>Carolyn herself can hardly take her eyes off of Johnny. He doesn’t like the way she looks at him. He can practically see the cogs turning in her head and he shifts his side to block Johnny from her view again. </p><p> </p><p>“You should go. My mum’ll come looking for us in a bit.” </p><p> </p><p>“I’m going nowhere until I’ve properly introduced myself to my grandson.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oi!”</p><p> </p><p>Later, he’ll realise that the sharp, angry voice that rings out between them isn’t his mum’s, but Vanessa’s. For now he’s so relieved that he turns to see his mum and Vanessa stalking up the path. Vanessa’s eyes are sharp and cold and he hasn’t seen her move so quickly since her treatment started. In the space of a few seconds she’s standing between him and Carolyn, and Charity has Johnny in her arms.</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa reaches back and curls her hand around Noah’s wrist. He stares at it dumbly for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, this is all very touching, isn’t it? Is there any part of my daughter’s life you won’t steal from me?“</p><p> </p><p>“It was never yours in the first place,” Charity spits. </p><p> </p><p>“How low can you get?” Vanessa practically snarls. Noah almost reels back at her tone. He’s never heard her this angry before. “Skulking around and trying to talk to my kids behind my back?”</p><p> </p><p><em> My kids. </em>Noah struggles to swallow past the lump in his throat.</p><p> </p><p>“What choice have you given me?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve given you plenty of choices for forty-four years. Time after time I’ve waited for you to be a mother, be involved, and it was <em> your </em>decision to stick away from me. What do you even want from me? From any of us?” </p><p> </p><p>Whatever Carolyn was going to say escapes them all. Vanessa pitches sideways.</p><p> </p><p>Noah reaches out and catches her before she can fall to the ground. Vanessa stumbles, one hand at her temple, her skin pale. </p><p> </p><p>“Babe?” Charity reaches out and touches her arm. “What is it? Should we call your doctor?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine. I just… had a wobble.”</p><p> </p><p>“You sure?” Noah asks.</p><p> </p><p>“I promise. I’m alright, Noah.” She meets his eyes and gives him a small smile. “Thank you.” </p><p> </p><p>He only lets go of her once he’s convinced she’s not going to go again. Vanessa looks between them all, from Carolyn to his mum and finally, back to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Go home. Take Johnny.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’m staying with you.” </p><p> </p><p>“Please. For me. Johnny doesn’t need to see this.” </p><p> </p><p>He hesitates, but his mum is already handing Johnny over to him. “Go, babe.” </p><p> </p><p>“Nuggets?” Johnny asks, hopeful.</p><p> </p><p>He looks to his mum, who nods. Noah throws one last scowl to Carolyn, who’s looking past Vanessa, even when his mum reaches out again to check she’s okay. Her eyes remain fixed on Johnny.</p><p> </p><p>Noah turns away quickly and walks home. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He tells Sarah all about it while they wait for Johnny’s nuggets to cook. The little boy sits at the table patiently with some paper and pens, drawing a picture of a dinosaur on roller-skates, indifferent to the situation going on around him.</p><p> </p><p>“She must’ve done something really bad to Vanessa. To make her hate her so much,” Sarah comments.</p><p> </p><p>Noah considers that word. <em> Hate. </em>He doesn’t know how someone could ever hate their parent. He’s come close to it sometimes with his mum, with all the lies and the scams and her ruining everything good in their lives, but through it all she’s still his mum. On a good day he loves her. But on a bad, he doesn’t hate her.</p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t even known Vanessa had it in her. All that fiery anger. So he thinks about it while Johnny ears. Eventually his mum calls and tells Sarah to use her card to buy them a takeaway for dinner. They do, eating on the sofa — something Vanessa normally bans them from doing — while Johnny sits on the floor, playing Mario Kart on Noah’s switch. </p><p> </p><p>“D’you reckon she’s alright?”</p><p> </p><p>“Who, Vanessa?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Sarah shrugs. “I dunno. She’s up and down a lot. Haven’t you noticed?”</p><p> </p><p>He’s noticed her being down more than up, as much as he hates to admit it. And his mum has desperately been trying to cover the cracks, to make everything feel as normal as it can be, but there’s one irrefutable truth running through everything now: Vanessa might not survive.</p><p> </p><p>At this, he feels his throat thicken again. He doesn’t want to think about a life without Vanessa in it. His mum will become angry again, that person who threw herself at the world in a fit of rage and never once thought about how that might affect him. </p><p> </p><p>He’s lost too many people he cares about already. Joe. Graham. He’s not quite sure what he’ll do if he loses Vanessa, too. </p><p> </p><p>His mum and Vanessa get home eventually, but Vanessa heads straight to bed, barely gives him or Sarah a smile. Johnny practically climbs up his mum’s leg and she takes him up to bed. He listens from his own room, his door open just a crack, wondering if she ever did anything like that for him when he was Johnny’s age. Eventually her voice quiets and then he hears the door to Johnny’s room close.</p><p> </p><p>Noah pretends to be scrolling through his phone when his mum appears in his doorway, poking her head in.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright, babe?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He sets his phone on the side. “I’m okay.”</p><p> </p><p>His mum looks back, sighs, and steps into his room. She closes the door behind her and sits on the end of his bed. </p><p> </p><p>“Look, babe, about earlier…” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p> </p><p>“What you saw —“  Her eyes harden. “Well, it was wrong of her, you know that. To try and get to Vanessa through you. Vanessa gave her her chance and she blew it. If she bothers you again, you let us know, alright?” </p><p> </p><p>“Did she —“ He swallows, sickening at the thought. “Was she, you know, abusive to Vanessa?”</p><p> </p><p>“God, no, babe. Nothing like that. They just don’t get along. You know what mums can be like.”</p><p> </p><p>The truth hangs heavy in the air between them. His mum reaches forward and squeezes his knee.</p><p> </p><p>“Get some sleep. <em> Now. </em>I don’t want to hear you on that playstation until god knows what hour. You have school tomorrow.” </p><p> </p><p>When he nods, she gets up. He waits until she’s in the doorway until he calls for her. She turns, eyebrows furrowed.</p><p> </p><p>“What did she want? Vanessa’s mum?”</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth opens and, for a moment, he sees her hands tremble. But then she shakes her head and the beat passes.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. Goodnight, babe.” </p><p> </p><p>It’s a long time before he’s able to get to sleep.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The rest of the week passes in a blur of routine. School, homework he doesn’t do, and ignoring the elephant in the room when he’s at home.</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa stays in her room for the first few days. He’s not sure how much of that is her being ill and how much of it is her not wanting to face what happened with her mum. Johnny mopes about without her for the first day but once Moses is back, he’s oblivious to his mum sleeping the days away upstairs.</p><p> </p><p>His mum sends him up with a bowl of soup for Vanessa to eat for tea on the third day. The blankets are piled around her and there’s a fresh set of sunflowers on her bedside table. Vanessa smiles tiredly when she pushes herself to sit, accepting the tray he hands her. It feels like it had been so long ago, the days when she would force them all to sit down and eat together as a family.</p><p> </p><p>“Alright?” He asks, watching her stir the soup. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. You know me. I always get better.”</p><p> </p><p>The words fall flat when she struggles to find her usual upbeat tone. Noah shifts his weight.</p><p> </p><p>“Everything sorted with your mum?”</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa looks up at him, wide-eyed. She seems to consider her words before she speaks.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Course.”</p><p> </p><p>He gets a feeling that there’s more going on to all of this than his mum and Vanessa are letting on. But she looks so small and pale in her bed that he can’t bring himself to argue. So he leaves it.</p><p> </p><p>Vanessa emerges from her room in the days that follow, making more of an effort with them all. The bags beneath her eyes betray how tired she is though. The way her movements are slower. She falls asleep on the sofa two minutes into the movie they all sit down to watch on Friday night, her head pillowed on his mum’s shoulder, and he tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the way his mum’s hand tightens its grip on Vanessa’s thigh.</p><p> </p><p>Things are normal, or as normal as they get in their house. So he doesn’t expect it, the day he goes to the cafe to grab a smoothie after footie on Saturday morning, when Brenda interrogates him.</p><p> </p><p>“That woman Vanessa was in here with a couple months back,” she says, taking her time making his smoothie, “I’ve seen her around more and more lately.” </p><p> </p><p>He gives her a blank look.</p><p> </p><p>“Mousey-brown hair, kind of drab looking… not very polite.”</p><p> </p><p>It clicks into place. Carolyn. “She’s been here?” </p><p> </p><p>“Well, yes. She’s been full of questions, too, about you lot.” Brenda’s eyes widen. “Of course, I didn’t say anything.”</p><p> </p><p>He doubts that’s true.</p><p> </p><p>“What sort of questions?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, all sorts. How long your mum and Vanessa have been together, when the wedding is, how Vanessa’s chemo’s going —“</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t even know anything about that,” he responds hotly. “So keep your nose out, alright?” </p><p> </p><p>Brenda actually <em> tuts. </em>“Alright. You don’t have to take that tone with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Noah silently fumes while she finishes making his smoothie. A line has built up behind him because of Brenda’s questioning. He leaves the change on the counter for her but she has another question for him before she hands over the smoothie.</p><p> </p><p>“She did say something about wanting to move to the village, though. Has Vanessa said anything about her finding a place?”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s moving? <em> Here </em>?” </p><p> </p><p>Brenda laughs. “Blimey, is there anything your mum and Vanessa actually tell you?” </p><p> </p><p>Noah barges out of the cafe, smoothie forgotten, and heads back to Jacob’s Fold. He’s going to demand answers. He’ll kick off if he has to, the way his mum’s prone to doing. </p><p> </p><p>But when he gets in the boys are nowhere to be seen, and Sarah’s upstairs, and Vanessa’s laying down on the sofa while his mum makes her lunch. He stares at her for a beat and realises she’s asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you slamming about for?” His mum snipes, cutting Vanessa’s sandwich in half. “You’ll be paying for it if you break that door.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. Sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>She looks him up and down. “Everything alright?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.” He wants to kick himself for being so robbed of his words. “Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right, well, take your shoes off. You’ll track mud all through the house. You know Vanessa hates that.”</p><p> </p><p>Yes, he thinks, as he bends down to undo his shoelaces. He does.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“What has gotten into you?” </p><p> </p><p>Noah tears his eyes away from the main street, where he looks out of habit every time they get off the bus after school, trying to keep an eye out for Carolyn. Sarah’s watching him like he’s grown a second head.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re being dead weird,” Sarah insists.</p><p> </p><p>“Am not.”</p><p> </p><p>“Are too.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re weird,” he chucks over his shoulder in reply.</p><p> </p><p>Carolyn still hasn’t reappeared, not that he’s seen anyway, but he thinks it’s unlikely she’ll try to use him to get to Vanessa. Especially since his mum’s found out about it. His mum may be a lot of things, good and bad. Protective is one of them. Her anger can be explosive. </p><p> </p><p>Apparently, so can Vanessa’s.</p><p> </p><p>He keeps meaning to ask about Carolyn, but every time he gets home he finds a new reason not to. Usually it’s because his mum is stressed from trying to juggle working with looking after Vanessa as well as Johnny and Moses. Then there are the days when Vanessa is so white she looks like a ghost, haunting the home they all share together. The questions rise up into his throat but get stuck there.</p><p> </p><p>Today, when they get back, he finds his mum and Vanessa are trying to teach Johnny and Moses how to ride their bikes without stabilisers. They’ve been doing that more and more lately, on the good days, doing things normal families would do, things that he would’ve never dreamed in a million years his mum would willingly do. </p><p> </p><p>Noah forgets his worries about Carolyn and helps them, walking behind Johnny as he attempts over and over without ever getting it right, even when Noah pretends to be holding the seat to hold him up. Moses gets it first, of course he does, his brother has no fear and throws himself at everything. Though it does end with him pedalling straight at a wall without braking, sending him to the floor and grazing his palms. His mum rolls her eyes and attends to him.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny, though, struggles. And Noah wants him to be able to do it so desperately when he catches sight of Vanessa’s face: stuck somewhere between fear and guilt. So Noah picks him up every time he falls down, brushes him off, and puts him back on his bike. </p><p> </p><p>He knows a few things about Johnny and Vanessa’s life before they’d entered his. Like Johnny being born premature. That means he’s always going to be a little bit smaller than the rest of the kids his age. A little bit behind in everything. But they don’t have <em> time </em>for him to fall behind. Not when Vanessa might not make it and she wants to see him go through as much of his life as he can.</p><p> </p><p>So, finally, on the thirtieth try, when Noah walks along beside him and eventually lets go, Johnny keeps pedalling. He’s shaky and the handles wobble but he’s going.</p><p> </p><p>“You did it!” </p><p> </p><p>Noah turns. Vanessa’s standing there, hands clasped over her chest, tears glistening her cheeks. But they’re happy ones. It’s the first time he’s seen her unconditionally happy in months.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>In the end, he happens upon Carolyn by accident. </p><p> </p><p>His mum has taken him for a pair of new trainers for football and he walks out of the shop, the box tucked under his arm, when she says she’s going to duck into the perfume shop to buy Vanessa a gift. He wrinkles his nose at the thought of standing around with her for half an hour smelling boring perfumes so she gives him a tenner so that he’ll go buy himself some lunch and wait for her to be done.</p><p> </p><p>He really does mean to go buy some lunch. But as he’s walking through the shopping centre he spots a familiar head of light brown hair, standing outside a clothes shop and looking at the mannequins in the display window.</p><p> </p><p>Noah could turn around and go back to his mum. He could even go back to the car and wait for her there. Instead he keeps walking, not thinking about what he’s going to do, and at the last second Carolyn catches sight of him.</p><p> </p><p>“Noah.” </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t talk to you for long. My mum’s here.” </p><p> </p><p>She glances over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“In one of the shops,” he clarifies.</p><p> </p><p>She studies him carefully. Carolyn has a way of looking at people that makes him feel as though she’s picking them apart.</p><p> </p><p>“You want to talk to me, then?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>Carolyn seems to deliberate over it for a moment. His heart pounds in his chest. He’s going to get in a <em> lot </em>of trouble if his mum or Vanessa catch wind of this. Maybe even worse than he did over the drug thing.</p><p> </p><p>Eventually, she sighs, and the action is so like Vanessa that he’s shocked for a second. Then she unlocks her phone, holding it out to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Put your number in there. I’ll let you know when to meet me when your mum isn’t around, hm?” </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sarah’s on to him, that much he knows. He tries to start acting normally. Which is hard, because Vanessa’s started her next cycle of chemo, meaning more of his mum being snappish because she’s exhausted, and listening to the sound of Vanessa throwing up in the middle of the night. The boys are shipped off to Tracy’s on those days and it means he and Sarah are often left on their own.</p><p> </p><p>The texts he gets from Carolyn are few and sparse. A time and a date. The address to a flat in Hotten she’s renting. His phone burns in his hoodie pocket and he feels like he’s got <em> liar </em>stamped on his forehead sometimes, what with the way Sarah looks at him. He makes sure to put on his football kit the Saturday he goes to meet Carolyn so lower her suspicion. </p><p> </p><p>It’s only one short bus ride to Carolyn’s flat. He changes into his regular clothes before he gets there then follows the directions to the specific address on his phone. The stairwell of the flat block smells nice. Clean. His brain keeps screaming at him for him to turn around and run away but he carries on until he happens upon a white door with gold numbers on front. Thirty-nine.</p><p> </p><p>Carolyn answers the door immediately after he knocks.</p><p> </p><p>“Noah.” She steps aside. “Come in.”</p><p> </p><p>The flat inside is modest and plain. The walls are beige and the wooden floor covered with a brown rug. He looks for the splash of colour Vanessa had brought with her to The Woolpack, and then to Jacob’s Fold, but there’s nothing. It’s all muted.</p><p> </p><p>“Tea?” Carolyn offers.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>He drops his bag on the floor and waits for her on the sofa. The seats are leather and hard, like they’ve hardly seen any use. He can see through the doorway to the kitchen, which is small and cramped, the counters lined with mason jars filled with tea bags and coffee grounds. </p><p> </p><p>Briefly, Noah wonders if this is what Vanessa’s house had looked like growing up. Then, quite suddenly, he feels guilty for never wondering what her life had been like before she’d started going out with his mum. He’s always been so concerned with how she and his mum’s eventual break up would affect him instead of anything about her.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t look like there’s gonna be a break up anytime soon. </p><p> </p><p>The tea Carolyn makes is strong. When she sits beside him on the sofa, it creaks.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you came to see me. I was hoping to talk to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were?” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes. You seem like a bright young man. My daughter speaks very highly of you. So I know you’ll understand my side of the story.” </p><p> </p><p>“What side’s that then? The part where you’re trying to move to the village?”</p><p> </p><p>Carolyn stares at him, eyes hard.</p><p> </p><p>“Your mum told you about that, then?”</p><p> </p><p>So his mum <em> does </em>know. Vanessa, too. He wonders what other secrets they’re keeping hidden from him. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he lies, “she’s not happy about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Is your mother ever happy about anything?” Carolyn asks with a bitter laugh. Noah’s grip on his mug tightens. “Listen, it’s a good thing. You know, you should support me. It means that you’ll be closer to Johnny.”</p><p> </p><p>Noah almost spills his tea over his lap. “To Johnny?” </p><p> </p><p>“I wouldn’t stop you from seeing him, if that’s what this is about. I know you must have formed quite the bond. It’d be good for my grandson to have an older boy to look up to.” </p><p> </p><p>“What are you talking about?” </p><p> </p><p>Carolyn is silent for a beat. She places her mug of tea on the side, her hands rubbing her thighs for a second. He can see the way she thinks about what she’s going to say before she says it.</p><p> </p><p>“I know Vanessa thinks it’s a good idea, your mum adopting Johnny. But it simply won’t do.”</p><p> </p><p>His head spins.</p><p> </p><p>His mum’s going to <em> adopt </em> Johnny? What else doesn’t he know?</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t mean any offence to you, I really don’t, but I’ve heard a lot about Charity from the people in that village. She isn’t a good mother.” Carolyn’s watching him like she’s expecting him to flip. He doesn’t. “She’s convinced Vanessa that she’s gay and nothing I can do will change that. But I can still help Johnny, if it comes to it. I’m his grandmother and I have rights. So, when the unfortunate time comes, I’ll be taking him.” </p><p> </p><p>Noah shoves his mug onto the side too, standing up. His head is swimming. </p><p> </p><p>“You say that like you know she’s going to die. You said <em> when </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just trying to be prepared.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks at her, at her hair perfectly in place and her drab clothes, her plain apartment. </p><p> </p><p>“You want her to die,” he accuses, “you just want an excuse to take Johnny.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want my daughter to die. I love her.” </p><p> </p><p>“No you don’t!” He retorts, feeling his face grow red. “If you loved her you wouldn’t even want to think about any of that. And you wouldn’t hate my mum either. And you wouldn’t care about her being gay. None of that stuff matters.” </p><p> </p><p>“Do you know, Vanessa waited almost a year to tell me she was with Charity. What does that tell you, hm?”</p><p> </p><p>“It tells me more about you than Vanessa,” he scoffs. “Vanessa’s the best thing to ever happen to my mum.”</p><p> </p><p>“And is your mum the best thing to ever happen to Vanessa?” She returns with an arched eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>He stops at that. His mum has never been a good thing to anyone. </p><p> </p><p>Then he thinks back to before Vanessa was sick. When she would laugh at his mum’s dumb jokes. When she’d sit at the bar of the pub on her days off just to sit and talk to her. The way she’d blush if his mum would kiss her in front of him. Even now, <em> especially </em>now, the love shines through strongly. Her eyes wet whenever his mum sends him up with soup. The way his mum is careful and attentive, ready to give Vanessa anything she wants at the drop of a hat. The evenings when he overhears them replanning their wedding. </p><p> </p><p><em> We’ll get there, babe, </em> his mum had said one night. <em> It’ll be worth the wait. </em></p><p> </p><p><em> Bloody well better be, </em>Vanessa had grumbled, but he’d heard the smile in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”</p><p> </p><p>He feels like an idiot now, coming here, thinking he could fix things between Vanessa and her mum just in case anything happened to Vanessa. Vanessa’s better off without her, he realises. They’re a family. He doesn’t remember when it happened, when he stopped disregarding Vanessa as another one of his mum’s latest flings and started thinking of her as someone he can rely on. It’s just the way things are now.</p><p> </p><p>Noah grabs his bag and heads towards the door. Carolyn follows after him, hot on his heels.</p><p> </p><p>“I only want what’s best for her. You have to believe that.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> We’re </em>what’s best for her,” he growls, throwing the front door open and storming straight through, “you’re just a lonely old woman.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The guilt eats away at him that night. The fear gnaws at him, too. Visions of Vanessa, pale and still and <em> dead </em>on a hospital bed, his mum falling apart and drinking every night, and Johnny, gone, down the road with Carolyn and regarding him like he’s a stranger instead of his brother. </p><p> </p><p>His cheeks are wet when he finally falls asleep. He wakes up some time in the night, unsure of what’s woken him, and then he hears the sound of Vanessa vomiting in the bathroom. He rubs at his eyes and drags himself out of bed.</p><p> </p><p>The door to the bathroom is closed and he can hear his mum murmuring gently. Satisfied Vanessa’s being looked after, he turns to go back into his room, but at the end of the hall the door to Johnny and Moses’s room opens and Johnny creeps out, wiping at one of his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Is my mummy sick?” He asks.</p><p> </p><p>Noah still doesn’t know how to reply to things like this. Johnny and Moses have no clue what’s going on with Vanessa. They just know that she gets sick sometimes.</p><p> </p><p>“Go back to bed, mate.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny stares at the door to the bathroom curiously.</p><p> </p><p>“I can make her better.”</p><p> </p><p>“My mum — your mummy Charity’s gonna make her better.”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny still hesitates in the hallway and Noah sighs, gesturing to his room.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mon. We’ll watch a movie, yeah?”</p><p> </p><p>Johnny practically runs into the room, clambering up onto his bed. Noah lets him flick through the kid’s section of Netflix on his TV and puts the volume on low, the colours of the TV lighting the room.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t like it when my mummy’s sick,” Johnny tells him, eyes glued to the screen.</p><p> </p><p>Noah runs his hand over Johnny’s hair. “Yeah. Me neither.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Vanessa</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Let's all pretend it hasn't taken me 2+ months to update this, okay?</p><p>Thank you all for being so patient - if any of you are still here - and I hope this final chapter doesn't disappoint. Stay safe out there.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Show me what home looks like.<br/>
</span>
  <span>A better peace.<br/>
</span>
  <span>A better life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>inkskinned </b>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sun beats down on the back of her neck as Vanessa hangs up the washing. She’s grateful for the faint breeze that cools her skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heat has forced her to give up her beanie too, the one to cover her the thin patches on her head. She wishes she could pretend she isn’t self-conscious of it. Charity does her best to make her feel normal, of course. But Vanessa is acutely aware of the loss, trivial as it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah pokes his head out the back door. “I can’t find mum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s in the shower. She has a late shift at the pub tonight. Everything alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s been weird with her lately. Sensitive still, but there’s been something off with him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He steps out and shoves his hands in his pockets, slouching. “I’m gonna go out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s nearly teatime. I was just about to start cooking.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll eat while I’m out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? Do you want me to keep something warm for you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His throat bobs. “Nah. I’m alright. See ya.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Bye, Noah,” she says, but he’s already walking off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head, Vanessa finishes hanging up the last of the washing, pausing to take in the view of the village and wipe the sweat off of her brow. Summer’s making itself well known now. That sets off a fluttering in her stomach — summer means she’s closer to being done with her treatment. One step closer to being healthy again. That's what she has to believe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa heads back inside. The boys are sitting together quietly, drawing. Upstairs she can hear Sarah talking on the phone to one of her friends, her laughter piercing the air every now and then.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s getting easier lately, the closer they get to the end of her treatment, to appreciate these moments of domesticity without fearing she’ll lose them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, on the nights she can’t sleep, she stares up at the ceiling and imagines it growing within her. Gnarled and twisted roots, rotting in colour, spreading and curling around everything, even her heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Those nights are fewer now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity trots down the stairs, smelling like her coconut moisturiser. She kisses Vanessa's cheek as she passes her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noah headed out,” Vanessa tells her. “Just so you know.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah. He said something about going out with his mates. Make sure he doesn’t stay out too late, alright babe? He keeps using it as an excuse to sleep in for half the day.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright.” She watches Charity’s hair fall around her face while she zips her boots up. “I love you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity presses a kiss to both the boys’ heads, who are so preoccupied with their colouring that they barely notice her. Vanessa accepts a gentle kiss from her, tucking the hair back behind Charity’s ears as they pull away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See ya, babe.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa keeps some leftovers warm in the oven for Noah just in case. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After she’s put Moses and Johnny to bed, she and Sarah settle on the sofa for a movie night, splitting a giant bowl of popcorn between them. She’s always been fond of Sarah, but they’ve grown closer over this year because of Vanessa’s cancer; Sarah would always come along to the chemo sessions Charity couldn’t make.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As always, they stop paying attention to the movie halfway through. Vanessa enjoys these moments between her and Sarah most. Currently, she’s trying to get her to tell her the name of the boy she has a crush on, after she caught her blushing and smiling over text message on her phone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Show me a photo, at least,” Vanessa insists.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah groans. “Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is having your granny’s girlfriend ask you to show you a picture of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No more excuses. Photo. Now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As much as she puts up a fight about it, Vanessa can tell Sarah’s glad to have someone to talk about this with. She passes Vanessa her phone with a picture from the boy’s instagram on it. Vanessa can’t figure out his name from the username, and she doesn’t quite understand what it is with lads nowadays wearing half their hair in their face, but he looks nicer than that Danny had been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bit obsessed with his trainers, isn’t he?” She comments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa tries to double tap the photo to zoom in more on the boy’s face. Sarah shrieks in horror and snatches the phone out from her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’ve you done that for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Done what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You liked the photo!” Sarah grabs a cushion and covers her face with it. “I’m never gonna live this down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s so wrong with liking a photo?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah just groans. Vanessa feels old suddenly, but grateful she’d never had to worry about all the rules that come with social media and crushes. No, she just does things the old fashioned way: getting drunk in a pub cellar with a beautiful woman and spending most of the night snogging.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah lets himself in the door then, heading straight towards the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s leftovers in the oven, if you’re hungry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah pauses. “What’d you make?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lasagne.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I take it upstairs?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And have you spill it all over the bed? No, you’ll eat at the table.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks at the film playing on TV and pulls a face. Vanessa laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet as he eats, even when she asks him about his evening. Noah practically inhales his food so he can head upstairs as quickly as possible. By the time he does, Sarah has finally re-emerged from behind the cushion.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Has Noah said anything to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sarah frowns. “Like what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dunno. Trouble with his mates? Worried about his exam results?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s been alright. There was — “ She stops abruptly. “It doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Vanessa presses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. I promise. Anyway, we’ve missed half the film now. We’ll have to rewind it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa must fall asleep as they watch it — there’s only so much fake interest she can drum up about teen romcoms. When she wakes, everything’s been tidied away, the lights are off except one lamp, and there’s a blanket draped over her. She’s just got her bearings when Charity walks in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Babe, what’re you still doing up? It’s daft o’clock.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sits up, stretching. “Must’ve fallen asleep.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well get that butt upstairs won’t you, cos I won’t be giving you any sympathy when you’ve got a stiff neck in the morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa hides her smile at that one. The last time she'd fallen asleep on the sofa watching movies with Sarah, she’d had a stiff neck for days. Charity had fretted over her with painkillers and a massage like she was on her last legs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s nice, this, she thinks, as she heads towards the stairs and Charity rests her hand on her back. All this being cared for. It’s nice.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The good news arrives at the end of July. Her solicitors are moving forward with the adoption now that Kirin has agreed to it. Carolyn doesn’t have a leg to stand on. There’s still a long process to go through, but things are looking hopeful, and at the end of it all Charity will legally be Johnny’s parent.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa doesn’t know what to do with herself. Charity’s out food shopping and all the kids are out, the teens with their mates and the little ones at a play group. She’d been occupying herself with paperwork from the vets that she’d had to sneak past Charity. Charity hates it when she works from home but there’s only so much resting she can do without getting bored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity bustles in through the door twenty minutes later, hands full of bags. She won’t let Vanessa help unpack any of it. It all feels remarkably normal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got a call from my solicitor, by the way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watches Charity’s hand falter as she lifts the milk from the bags. The adoption has been a tense subject as of late, since Carolyn told them her intentions to fight for guardianship of Johnny should Vanessa not make it. Charity’s confidence has been knocked but she hasn’t shown any signs of not wanting to go through with the adoption regardless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They got in touch with Kirin and he agreed to the adoption. Now all they have left to do is the paperwork and he’ll be yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity almost drops the milk. She spins around so fast she’s practically a blur.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? They found him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa can’t stop herself from grinning. “Yeah. Apparently that private investigator you hired is really, </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>good at his job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And they definitely said it’ll go through?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, there’s still some review they have to go through, legal stuff but… she sounded pretty positive, yeah.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity sets the milk on the side. She goes quiet. Vanessa approaches her, taking her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charity? You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>want this, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God. Of course, babe. More than anything. I promise.” She squeezes Vanessa’s hands. “But you’re sure you want to go through with this? You heard the doctors, they said you’re doing really well and — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That could change. And anyway, I’d want this with or without cancer hanging over my head.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re his mum. It just makes sense.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s smile is full of relief and she pulls Vanessa into her arms, holding on tightly. She’s been like that more and more lately; not treating her like she’s fragile. It’s a slice of normalcy she’s missed fiercely. Vanessa holds on just as tight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they pull away, Charity’s cheeks are wet with tears and Vanessa realises her own are too. They laugh together and wipe the tears away. Charity kisses her, her lips a little salty, but Vanessa doesn’t mind. She lets herself forget about everything except Charity Dingle kissing her in their kitchen at two in the afternoon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you didn’t have to talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then?” Charity asks after they part. Her voice always drips with malice when she talks about Kirin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I could’ve. Maybe if he’d denied things. Or if I wanted to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not quite sure how she’s supposed to feel about him giving up his rights so easily. She hurts for Johnny. Sometimes she thinks she’d held out hope that once Kirin had grown up he’d set about righting some of his wrongs, for Johnny’s sake. But Charity has given them both so much that Kirin never had. They’re better with her. Both of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t want to talk to him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really know what I’d say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d give him what for.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know you would. I guess...“ She mulls it over, crossing her arms over her chest. “I spent a lot of time being angry at him. Not just for leaving, but for everything that lead up to it… you know, when he found out Adam might be Johnny’s dad, he — he threw a bunch of money in my face. Literally. Told me to use it to pay for a termination.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s face hardens. “The feckless git.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It hurt. A lot. I thought I loved him. But I’m not interested in rehashing the past anymore. Not with someone like that. We’ve got to look forward to our future, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s right, babe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity smiles at her. The flower of optimism inside her chest blossoms.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The anniversary of her dad’s death creeps up on her. She wakes before Charity’s alarm is due to go off and finds herself restless, unable to get back to sleep for the first time since she started her chemotherapy treatment. She spends most of dawn watching the rise and fall of Charity’s shoulders. She drifts her finger along the length of her spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity rouses at the touch. Her eyes are still hazy with sleep when she rolls over. They don’t speak but Charity reaches out and rubs her thumb over Vanessa’s cheek. She curls her fingers around Charity’s wrist and holds on tightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can call Chas and tell her I need the day off, you know. She’ll understand,” Charity says later, hovering by the front door, keys in her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine. I told you. Trace is coming around. We don’t wanna do anything big, just spend some time remembering him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity still wavers. Vanessa nudges her hip, pushing her towards the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go on. The sooner you leave, sooner you’ll be back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart is heavy when she closes the door behind Charity. Every movement feels sluggish in a way that, for once, has nothing to do with the cancer. She’s not sure whether she should feel grateful for it or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her grief has been silent lately, all her energy put into hoping the chemo works and trying to make the most of her life if this is to be last of it. But now it’s loud and cloying, thickening her throat with unshed tears and making her hands shake. She sits on the edge of the sofa. She just needs a moment or two to calm down and then she’ll be fine. That’s all she needs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s head snaps up. Noah’s by the back door, reaching for the handle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she says quickly, her voice hoarse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? Do you feel sick? Should I get mum?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noah. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry. It’s just… it’s the anniversary of my dad’s death, that’s all.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright.” She tries her best to smile. Noah’s still wearing a frown. She pats the space beside her. “Sit with me for a bit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to meet up with my mates.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just for a little while. C’mon.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah acquiesces, sitting far away and his shoulders stiff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa shuffles closer, so that she can rest a hand on his knee. He looks away. There’s something going on with him and she’s determined to find out what.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noah, is everything okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, have I done something wrong then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes snap back to hers. “What’re you talking about?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been avoiding me. It’s alright, I’m not angry with you,” she adds when his body tenses, ready to react. “I just wanted to make sure we’re okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. She sighs. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>like his mum it’s unnerving at times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I know things are tough right now. I really wish you kids didn’t have to go through this. It’s okay to be scared. If you are, you can talk to me, or your mum. Tracy will listen, too, if you want someone else to talk to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the cancer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s… I mean it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. But I've just been wondering what’ll happen to Johnny, if something happens to you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Her heart tumbles in her chest and then the tears she’d previously managed to hold off are slipping down her cheeks. “It’s really sweet of you to worry about that, Noah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes widen in alarm at her tears. He leans away, cheeks red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S’just a question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, your mum and I were going to tell everyone once it’s official but, she’s adopting Johnny. So he’ll be with all of you, if the worst were to happen.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not your mum?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who told you that?” She asks sharply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No-one. I just meant because she’s family.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, so are you. Blood isn’t thicker. Not all the time. I know you would all look out for him if I weren’t here anymore. If I died, that doesn’t suddenly mean you stop being his brother. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>brilliant </span>
  </em>
  <span>one, by the way.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah’s clearly embarrassed, but he looks brighter around the edges. She squeezes his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Go on. Go see your friends.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you want someone to stay with you? You know… cos of your dad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles. “It’s okay. Tracy’s coming around. But thank you, Noah.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa spends a long time in the shower, scrubbing at her cheeks as the tears keep falling. She misses her dad deeply. Aches for his advice and the smell of his aftershave and his support during her chemotherapy. Today’s making it harder to ignore, so she lets it out when she knows she’s alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not that she can't count on Tracy and Charity to lean on. That’s all Charity wants from her, really. To lean on her in the tough times, to tell her when she’s feeling down so that she can support her and they can work through it together. But there are some habits that are hard to break and grief is something you go through alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a knock at the door once she’s dressed, which is strange, since Tracy normally just lets herself in through the back door. She crosses the room to open it. The last person she expects to find on her doorstep is her mum.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to argue.” Her mum holds her hands up. Vanessa would believe her if not for the anger that smarts in her chest every time she thinks about her mum lately. “I thought you’d want some company today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? Of all people you thought I’d want to spend it with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me inside, at least.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa rubs at the bridge of her nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want anything to do with you. Ever. You threatened to take my son away from his mum.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Charity isn’t — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She is,” Vanessa hisses. Carolyn’s eyes harden. “So stay away from my family. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that right? Then why, tell me, have they been approaching me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels her stomach drop. “You what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The boy. Noah. He sought me out. Perhaps </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>understands the severity of the situation.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It all slots into the place, the way Noah’s been acting around her recently. It hasn’t been worry. It’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>guilt. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She’d been gullible enough to believe he’d been worried about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes feel hot with tears again and her sternum chokingly warm when her mum’s eyes survey her. The expression on her face isn’t quite smug, but it’s close. It’s enough for anger to pour out of Vanessa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You thought that was okay, then? To go behind my back to get at my kids </span>
  <em>
    <span>again? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Don’t you have any shame?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you’d just answer my calls — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why the hell would I want to answer them when you’ve threatened to take my kid away from the one person who loves him as much as I do?” Vanessa explodes. “You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>cared about me or Johnny before, so don’t start playing the martyr act now that Neil’s left you and you’re alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“V?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chest heaving, Vanessa looks over Carolyn’s shoulder to see Tracy standing at the end of the path. Her eyes dart between the two of them warily, hand reaching into her pocket slowly. Reaching for her phone, Vanessa realises belatedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Tracy asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What business is that of yours?” Carolyn snipes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She happens to be my sister. And she’s not well. So whatever this is,” Tracy gestures to Carolyn, “has to wait.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn huffs, looking Tracy up and down. Vanessa clutches at the doorway because she already knows the next words out of her mum’s mouth will be cruel.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re her, then. Frank’s lovechild with that whore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You leave her alone,” Vanessa growls. “I’m so sorry, Tracy. I didn’t know she was just gonna turn up — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you dare apologise to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>because of me. After everything Frank put me through, the least I’m owed is a little sympathy. You know, your father wasn’t a kind man to me before he left. He cheated. Swindled money. He left me with you and no plans to come back and help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Vanessa closes her eyes and nods. She thinks about Kirin, on the run from a murder charge. She thinks about Bails, everything he had done to Charity. “But his actions have nothing to do with me and Tracy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tracy shoulders past Carolyn, making her stumble, and takes Vanessa’s arm. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be going now. You better not overstay your welcome,” Tracy says, glaring at Carolyn. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Trust me. She went past it a long time ago,” Vanessa mutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tracy closes the door in Carolyn’s face. Vanessa stands, muted with shock, waiting for her mum to kick up on a fuss. To fight for her, perhaps. They’re faced with silence and Vanessa takes a steadying breath, wiping at her tears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mind is a riot, as Tracy leads her over to the sofa to sit down. She does, but she’s not in the room with Tracy, not listening to the kettle boil and the mugs clink as she makes them a cup of tea. She’s picturing Noah seeking Carolyn out. Behind her back. Talking about what’s best for Johnny.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Had Charity known? Had Sarah? The betrayal is heavy on her bones. She’s torn between wanting to cry and wanting to yell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa blinks and finds Tracy’s sitting on the sofa with her, holding out a brew. Vanessa takes it and stares into the liquid. She knows that there’s no legal chance of Carolyn getting guardianship of Johnny now, but that doesn’t mean that it’s rattled her deeply that Noah’s considered the possibility.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d been coming to terms with it recently, the possibility of her death, as well as she could. Mostly because she’d thought that everything was in order. That Johnny was safe. With his family. A family that wanted him. Who are honest with each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s weird, you know,” Tracy says quietly. “You and I argued and then bonded over dad so much that I just… forgot we had completely different lives. I really wish we’d been able to grow up together.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Me too,” Vanessa replies, throat aching. “But we make up for it now, don’t we? With however much time I have left — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say it like that. You’ve got a whole life to live, V.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Her voice breaks and she wipes at her tears. “I know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about what just happened?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. I — thanks, but I just… today should be about dad, right?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Tracy agrees, scooching closer to wrap her arm around Vanessa’s shoulder. “And you and me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa smiles and lets herself be pulled into the hug. Tracy had been a surprise, in the beginning. They had butted heads. Funny, really, how that’s the case with all the people she loves now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You and me.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s tired by the time she and Tracy get in. They’d had a good, long natter about their memories of Frank, cried buckets, and then gone for a walk to clear both their heads. She thinks it’d make her feel lighter if not for the heavy weight of Noah’s betrayal weighing down on her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s back from work as she opens the door, scrubbing down the kitchen counters. Vanessa listens out for the sound of the boys and the teens, but the house seems silent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Charity asks, ditching her marigolds to meet her by the door and help her out of her jacket. “I know, daft question.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where is everyone?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chas has the little’uns, Sarah’s at a mates, and Noah’s having a sleepover with Samson. I thought you’d want some privacy today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You organised all of that for me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity shrugs. “It’s not much.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It is. Thank you,” she murmurs, lifting up on her toes to kiss her cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity has made them dinner, too, though it’s a little burnt. Vanessa relishes in the simple company of someone she loves, looking out for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity doesn’t chatter to fill in the silence. She allows Vanessa the time she needs to breathe. When they go to bed that night, Charity’s nose pressed against the back of her neck and her arm gently curling around her waist, Vanessa’s sleep is free of nightmares. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next morning, she wakes to the sound of voices downstairs. One of them is distinctly Charity’s. The other, she realises slowly, is Noah’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though she’s bone-tired, she forces herself out of bed and down the stairs. There’s a moment, as she descends, when Charity and Noah are laughing together, that she thinks she’ll drop Noah’s betrayal in favour of living peacefully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then Noah catches sight of her and stands from the sofa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just realised I left my charger at Samson’s.”<br/>
<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sets her jaw.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sit down, Noah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity looks up at her sharp tone. “Babe?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Noah doesn’t budge, Vanessa narrows her eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” Charity demands, rising to her feet and joining Vanessa’s side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” Noah insists, flushing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He met with my mum,” Vanessa says, not really believing it until the words are out of her mouth, until Noah looks down at his feet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a tense silence between them. Vanessa waits for Noah to rush to explain, but he doesn’t. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well?” At Charity’s voice, Noah flinches. “Is it true?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not how it sounds.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No? Because what it sounds like to me is you getting involved in business that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Noah. Please look at me,” Vanessa requests quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She wants to yell. She wants to be angry. She wants her body to have the energy for either of these things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah looks up and his eyes are bloodshot with guilt. Charity crosses her arms over her chest. There’s no anger in her, Vanessa realises, just love for this boy who’s dealt with everything life’s thrown at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did it help, talking to her?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity barks a laugh. “You can’t be serious.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shh. Let him talk. I want to hear what he has to say.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to help,” Noah starts. He clears his throat. “You were getting sicker and I was scared. I didn’t get </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>you two didn’t get along and I just thought maybe you’d be happier if you did.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fat chance of that,” Charity mutters.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t because… you don’t think Johnny would be better off with her, do you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? No. He’s gonna stay with us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Always,” Charity interjects firmly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carolyn said she’s fighting to get Johnny. If anything happens. That’s what she said.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s wrong. I told you: your mum’s going to adopt him. She doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I just…” Vanessa sighs, dropping her head. “Please don’t go behind our backs like that, Noah. Especially not with her. She’s not a good person. It hurt me that you felt you couldn’t come to me with your worries.”  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Noah crosses the room and, before she can blink, has roped her into a hug. He goes to pull away instantaneously but then her arms wrap around his shoulders. She anchors herself to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he says quietly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she whispers, her thumb rubbing at the back of his neck.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>August reaches blistering heat and it makes the boys lethargic, wearing themselves ragged after just a few minutes of running around.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Next month, Johnny’s due to start his first year in primary school. He’s been chattering about it lately, about how he and Moses will be at the same school again. There’s so much love in him for his brother that it takes Vanessa’s breath away sometimes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She had worried, and still does, about the milestones of his life that she might miss. At least she’ll have this one, no matter whether the chemo works or not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moses decides to get up and run again. Johnny wastes no time in pushing himself up and chasing after him, weaving between the other pub customers sitting in the beer garden. They almost barrel into Charity as she walks out carrying a tray of drinks for her, Rhona, and Vanessa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inevitably, Johnny falls over. When he calls out </span>
  <em>
    <span>mummy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vanessa turns, and realises he’s looking for Charity, his grazed palm held up and waiting for her to kiss it better. She does.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the night before her last chemo and she’s a nervous bundle of energy. She’s tried reading, or attempting Charity’s crosswords, or watching a film, but nothing takes her mind off of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing different about it, logistically. But soon she will be given answers of whether she’s in remission or not. Tracy and Rhona have both insisted that she’ll be fine. Charity has remained unnervingly upbeat. Vanessa feels black and blue with all their optimism. It almost feels like she’ll be disappointing them, that it’ll be </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>fault, if the chemo hasn’t worked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity settles in bed beside her, flicking through the channels on the TV. That’s new: the TV in the bedroom. She hadn’t ever let Charity redecorate the room entirely — she likes it how it is; she doesn’t want it to be a reminder of her cancer — but there had been additions that had made her life easier for when she couldn’t get out of bed because she was so tired. A place to recuperate.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually, Charity just lets the news play, neither of them really paying attention to it. Charity’s restless too, she can tell, as she stares at the book in her hands but never turns the page.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when the story airs, which she thinks is supposed to be a strange attempt at up-lifting. The reporter is walking around the house of an elderly man, who’s pointing to various framed photographs of him and his late wife. There’s a voiceover of him explaining how, when his wife had died thirty years ago from breast cancer, he had never once thought of getting remarried. Vanessa’s throat closes up as she watches.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s hand slips into hers and her thumb rubs over the back of it. She reaches over for the remote control and turns the volume down. Vanessa waits for her to say something, to comment on how instead of sweet the story is simply heartbreaking, but she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’d want you to move on, you know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s thumb stops moving. “Ness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean it.” She swallows past the ache in her throat. “I just want you to be happy. So don’t go getting any daft ideas in your head about spending the rest of your life on your own. Okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s hand slips from her own and she leans away. Vanessa follows, resting against her side, her palm on her thigh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please. I can’t stand the thought of you being on your own.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well I won’t be, will I? You’re gonna be fine. So stop talking about it,” Charity snaps.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She eases Vanessa off of her, standing from the bed, back turned to face her. Vanessa watches her rake a hand through her hair, her shoulders rising as she takes in a deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The news report has changed now, something inane but equally as depressing playing. Neither of them pay attention to it. Vanessa waits patiently for Charity to turn around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she does, her mascara is smudged with a few tears. Guilt smarts in her chest. She hadn’t meant to make her cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re it for me, you know? You and me... “ Charity pauses and her throat bobs. “I don’t want anyone else. I don’t even want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>consider </span>
  </em>
  <span>the idea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa throws the covers aside and stands to meet her. Charity flinches a little when she takes her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know, that’s all. I’d understand. You deserve to be happy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy with </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But I might not live — “</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity kisses her, hard, her hands cupping her jaw. Vanessa isn’t expecting it so she squeaks and stumbles backwards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Charity mumbles breathlessly. Tears are still falling. “Sorry, Ness. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey. It’s okay. I’m not gonna break.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s hands are trembling against her skin. “I just love you so much. I can’t handle it, babe. The thought of — I can’t do it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Vanessa’s prepared for Charity’s kiss. Open-mouthed and so fierce it makes her gasp. It’s desperate, the way Charity touches her now, the way she lays her down on the bed and stretches out on top of her. Vanessa’s head spins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she pants between kisses, “I’m here. I’m here.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They have her ring a bell at the hospital to celebrate her last course of chemo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that’s not her idea of celebration. That comes later, when she walks into the pub, tired, aching, but finds all of the people she loves are there waiting for her. They all have funny little party hats tied to their head that are plastered in awful photos of her. Chas has even invented a mocktail named after her that’s bright yellow but tastes delicious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, of course, there’s her family by her side. Johnny snuggled into her as they sit in one of the booths. Moses telling her about their day at the playgroup. Noah and Sarah acting like awkward teenagers who’ve been forced to attend. Ryan slouched against the bar, making sarky comments.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Charity, looking at her with so much love it’s a wonder she doesn’t burst open with it all.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure about this, babe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were pretty set on her never setting foot in our home before.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Vanessa nods and surveys herself in the mirror. It’s the first time in months that she’s put makeup on. She still doesn’t feel quite like herself, but it’s a start. “But there are things left unsaid. I can’t… I can’t keep going around in circles with her. So I want her to see that I’m here, with my family, and that we’re happy. I don't need her or her approval anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity sighs and drops a kiss to the top of her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know where I am. If you need me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa thinks she should be nervous, but she isn’t. When the knock on the front door comes, she expects it this time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn is drabber than she remembers. The summer hasn’t been kind to her. Vanessa can see sunburn fading on her sensitive skin. Her hair is tied back in a limp ponytail, the temples greying.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again,” Carolyn says, wavering at the doorstep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Come in,” Vanessa tells her, stepping aside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn does, inspecting everything as she passes it. There used to be a time that Vanessa would’ve been filled with anxiety at the scenario playing out in front of her. She would be unravelling with the need to please her. Now, she waits patiently as her mum looks around, eventually settling on the sofa. This is her home. She’s proud of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s nicer than I thought it’d be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa holds back a laugh. That’s almost a compliment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She makes them both a cup of tea. Her mum always takes hers so strong it’s a wonder she doesn’t just skip the water and only have the bag. She wonders how long these tidbits of information will stick with her, even after all these years of unloving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I presume you called me here to talk about Johnny,” Carolyn says without preamble as Vanessa sits down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You would’ve heard by now that they’ve accepted the case. Charity’ll be his adoptive mum before the end of the year.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn makes a face. “You want to shut me out of his life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No. That’s never what I wanted. I would’ve loved for you to have been in his life, in mine, but you made a choice very long ago to keep yourself detached. And then you tried to take him by </span>
  <em>
    <span>force</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I just don’t understand why.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I suppose I wanted to be better. With him.” Carolyn looks down at the mug in her hands. “I wasn’t any good with you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you weren’t,” Vanessa replies honestly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn laughs bitterly, shaking her head, and takes a sip of her drink. Upstairs, Vanessa hears the sounds of Charity moving around, tidying the boys’ room. Noah had built a fort with them last night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knows that Carolyn hears the sounds too. The noise of a house lived-in, so different from the one she had grown up in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you intend on shutting me out of your life now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Carolyn, what do you want from me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want you to be my daughter,” Carolyn says, but the words come out perplexed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what that means to you,” Vanessa responds quietly, “I don’t think you do, either.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn’s lips settle into a thin line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps not.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks at her mother, who’s always kept herself so separate from the rest of the world, from her own daughter, in an attempt to look as perfect as she can to others. Always so worried about what they think. It must be lonely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa supposes she could try to help, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Expending that much energy into someone that doesn’t care for her just isn’t worth her time anymore. If there’s anything the cancer has taught her, it’s that prioritising herself and the people she loves is the best way to take care of herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She just sad for her. Sad that this is the life Carolyn chose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re different with Charity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Am I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn laughs quietly. “Oh yes. But it suits you. Happiness.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Vanessa allows herself to smile. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Upstairs, there’s a faint thump and then the sound of Charity swearing. Vanessa holds back a laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know that nothing I can do will ever make up for my actions. But I don’t have a lot in my life, Vanessa. I’d like to know that little boy. Whatever it is you’ll share.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa stands. Her legs ache in protest and she doesn’t trust that they won’t give out from under her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have photos of when he was a baby, if you’d like to see them.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’d like that very much.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The photo album is a little dusty. She prefers scrolling through the photos on her phone nowadays, photos of Moses, Noah and Sarah intermingled through them. She wipes the leather cover and the spine creaks as she opens it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There aren’t many photos of Johnny at the hospital. No more than half a dozen. All but one of them had been taken by Adam, who’d sent them to her late one night, after she’d confessed to not bonding with her son. The photos hadn’t made her feel anything at the time. Now her heart pinches at the sight of him, too small and too frail and hooked up to too much machinery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s always going to be smaller than the other kids his age, always a little bit behind, and she’ll always feel like she failed him somehow. That she should’ve done more, should’ve seen the shove from Jai coming. Done something to keep him safe inside her to grow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, that Moses can run faster and climb the stairs easier and knows more words, even with a few short months between them. She tries not to think about it too much. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t this Charity’s son?” Carolyn asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa blinks. It is. In the photo, she’s sat on the sofa, a silly fluffy halo above her head. Johnny’s cradled in her arms and Noah, young and somewhat happy, is smiling up at the camera with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn gives her a long look. “How long have the two of you been together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not that long. There were… Charity was away for a little while. Moira, my friend, took Noah in. They’re family, in a way,” Vanessa explains. She finds herself slipping the photo from the album. She’d forgotten they’d even taken this. “It was my first Christmas with Johnny and I didn’t have anyone to spend it with. So the Bartons came to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could have invited me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could I?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn glances away and Vanessa already knows the answer. She watches as her mum points to a photo of Johnny at seven months old, smiling gummily, a slice of banana mushed up in his hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I could have this one?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s throat is too tight to answer. She just nods, slipping it free too, and passes it to her. Her mum stares at it for a beat before placing it in her bag.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. No problem.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Will you…” Carolyn hesitates. “I’d like to know. When you get the results about your cancer. I… I do care about you, Vanessa, in my own way.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Vanessa answers, walking her mum to the door. It’s funny, the feeling she gets in her stomach. She knows this is the last time she’ll ever see Carolyn. She’s not quite sure if she’s sad or not. “I will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Carolyn steps out onto the path. She looks back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have a good family here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Vanessa replies, pride making her stand just that little bit taller.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mum nods and hesitates, like she’s going to say something else. Vanessa realises they have nothing left to say to each other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Vanessa.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” She watches her mum turn and walk away, her greyness growing smaller and smaller in the distance. “Bye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s still got the photo of herself, Noah and Johnny in her hands. She feels a little foolish; Noah probably doesn’t remember that Christmas. They hadn’t meant anything to each other at the time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She unpins one of the photos they have on the collage, one of Charity with Noah in a Christmas hat. It’s a duplicate; they have it framed on the side too. She replaces it with the forgotten photo and takes a moment to run her thumb over Noah’s young and smiling face. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charity’s palm is sweaty. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa’s fairly certain hers is, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re both staring at the door that leads to her consultant’s office. Her appointment was supposed to be ten minutes ago, but she’s running behind. Vanessa’s leg won’t stop bouncing. Time feels stretched out, the seconds slower than usual.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind that door lies the answer as to whether she’s in remission or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yesterday, they had gone shopping to buy Johnny his uniform for primary school. He had beamed with pride, wanting to wear it at home too. He had demanded to model it for Noah and Sarah.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be alright,” Charity murmurs to her now, pressing a kiss to her temple. Her hand grips Vanessa’s tighter. “No matter what, I’m with you. In sickness and in health, yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not even married,” Vanessa protests, smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re as good as.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Last night, Moses had woken up from a nightmare and climbed in between the two of them. They’d been limiting that recently, with everything she’s been going through, but when Charity had tried to take him back to his own bed Vanessa had tucked the little boy against her side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door to her consultants’ office opens. She’s smiling. Vanessa wills herself to believe that’s a good sign.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vanessa?” She calls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This morning, Noah and Sarah had hung around to wish her good luck, Noah producing a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. The flowers had been bright and beautiful but she’d accidentally crushed them as she’s roped them both into a fierce hug.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Charity had kissed her deeply before they'd left, whispering about how much she loved her when she'd pulled away, how proud she was.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, Charity turns toward her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ready?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, she realises she is. Whether it’s good news or bad, she has her family by her side. Their future to look forward to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vanessa nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
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